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CIHM 


ICIMH 1 


Microfiche 


Collection de 


Series 


microfiches 


(IVIonographs) 


(monographies) 

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Canadian Institute for Historical Microraproductions / Institut Canadian da microraproductions historiquas 



©1996 



Technical and Bibliographic Notes / Notes technique et bibliographlques 



The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original 
copy available for filming. Features of this copy which 
may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of 
the images in the reproduction, or which may 
significantly change the usual method of filming are 
checked below. 





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Coloured covers / 
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Covers damaged / 
Couverture endommagee 

Covers restored and/or laminated / 
Couverture restauree et/ou pellicula 

Cover title missing / Le titre de couverture manque 

Coloured maps / Cartes g^ographiques en couleur 

Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black) / 
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) 

Coloured plates and/or illustrations / 
Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur 

Bound with other material / 
Reli^ avec d'autres documents 

Only edition available / 
Seule edition disponible 

Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion 
along interior margin / La reliure serr^e peut 
causer de I'ombre ou de la distorsion le long de 
la marge interieure. 

Blank leaves added during restoratk>ns may appear 
within the text. Whenever possible, these have 
been omitted from filming / II se peut que certaines 
pages blanches ajoutdes lors d'une restauration 
apparaissent dans le texte, mais, k>rsque cela 6taH 
possible, ces pages n'ont pas ^ filmdes. 



L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur examplaire qu'il lui a 
ete possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exem- 
plaire qui sont peut-§tre uniques du point de vue bibli- 
ographique, qui peuvent nrradifier une image reproduite, 
ou qui peuvent exiger une nnodifications dans la m6th- 
ode normale de filmage sont indiques ci-dessous. 

r~] Coloured pages / Pages de couleur 

I I Pages damaged / Pages endommagees 

I I Pages restored and/or laminated / 
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r^ Pages discoloured, stained or foxed / 
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I I Pages detached/ Pages d6tachees 

r~7' Showthrough / Transparence 

I 1 Quality of print varies / 

' — ' Quality inegale de I'impression 

I I Includes supplementary material / 

Comprend du materiel suppiementaire 

I 1 Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata 
— slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to 
ensure the best possible image / Les pages 
totalement ou partiellement obscurcies par un 
feuillet d'en^ta, une pelure, etc., ont 6\6 filmdes 
k nouveau de fa?on a obtenir la meilleure 
image possible. 

I j Opposing pages with varying colouration or 
' — ' discolourations are filmed twice to ensure the 
best possible image / Les pages s'opposant 
ayant des colorations variables ou des decol- 
orations sont film^es deux fois afin d'obtenir la 
meilleur image possible. 



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AdcBtional comments / 
Commentaires suppi^mentairBs: 



This item is f ilmad at th* rtduetion ratio chackad balow/ 

C« doctimant Mt filmi au taux de riduction indiqut ci-dt»ous. 

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Th« copy filmed h«r« ha* b««n raproducad thanks 
to tha ganareaity of: 

^'atiOIUll Library of Canada 



L'axamplaira film4 fut raprodutt grica i la 
g*nirosit* da: 

Blbllotheque nationala du Canada 



Tha imagas appaaring hara ara tha bast quality 
poMibIa considaring tha condition and lagibility 
of tha original copy and in kaaping with tha 
filming contract apacifications. 



Oribinal copias in printad papar covara ara filmad 
baginning with tha front covar and anding on 
tha laat paga with a printad or illustratad impraa* 
•ion, or tha back covar whan approprlata. All 
othar original copiaa ara filmad baginning on tha 
first paga with a printad or illustratad impras- 
sion, and anding on tha last paga with a printad 
or illustratad imprassion. 



Tha last racordad irama on aach microficha 
shall contain tha symbol »^ (moaning "CON- 
TINUED"). or tha symbol ▼ (moaning "END"). 
whichavar applias. 



Las imagas suivantas ont *ti raproduitas avac la 
plus grand soin, compta tanu da la condition at 
da la nattat* da l'axamplaira f ilm«, at an 
conformity avac laa conditions du contrat da 
filmaga. 

Las axamplairas originaux dont la couvsnurs an 
papiar ast imprimOa sont filmas an commancant 
par la pramiar plat at an tarminant soit par la 
darniira paga qui comporta una amprainta 
d'imprassion ou d'illustration, soit par la sacond 
plat, salon la cas. Tous laa autras axamplairas 
originaux sont filmAs an commandant par la 
pramiAra paga qui comporta una amprainta 
d'imprassion ou d'illustration at an tarminant par 
la darniira paga qui comporta una taila 
amprainta. 

Un daa symbolaa suivants spparaitra sur la 
darniira imaga da chaqua microficha, salon la 
cas: la symbols ^-^ signifia "A SUIVRE". la 
aymboia ▼ aignifia "FIN". 



Maps, platas, charu, ate. may ba filmad at 
diffarant raduction ratios. Thosa too larga to ba 
antiraly includad in ona axposura ara filmad 
baginning in tha uppar laft hand cornar, laft to 
right and top to bonom, as many framas as 
raquirad. Tha following diagrams illustrata tha 
mathod: 



Las cartas, planchas. tablaaux. ate. pauvant atra 
filmte A daa taux da rOduction diffOrants. 
Lorsqua la documant ast trap grsnd pour atra 
raproduit an un saul clichO. il ast filma A partir 
da I'angla supiriaur gaucha. da gaucha k droita. 
at da haut an baa. mn pranant la nombra 
d'imagaa n^cassaira. Las diagrammaa suivants 
illustrant la mOthoda. 



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EPITAPHS, EPIGRAMS, AND OTHER 
EPHEMERA 



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EPITAPHS, EPIGRAMS 

and other 

EPHEMERA 



By 



George Graham Currie 



THE DREW PRESS 

JACKSONVILLE, FLORIDA 

MCMXU 



P53505 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1912 
by George Graham Currie, in the office of 
the Librarian of Congress at Washingtc 



ton. 



TO MY FRIEND AND CLIENT 

WILLIAM DISSTON 

(of palm beach, FLA. AND PHILADELPHIA, PA.) 

This Book and its Companion Volumes are 
Respectfully Inscribed : 

Not that such an inscription can add anything to Mr. 
Disston's importance in the industrial world or to 
his generally recognized h.gh character wherever 
he is known, but because it gives the author an 
opportunity of thus publicly showing his ap- 
preciation of the ma ■' kindnesses he has 
received at Mr. Disston's hands and affords 
him the pleasure of reciprocating his 
benefactor's confidence in a manner 
that money may not buy. 



»^ 



CONTENTS 

ACROSTIC AND AUTOGRAPH VERSES. . .105-116 

EPITAPHS 117-129 

EPIGRAMS ON VARIOUS OCCASIONS 131-165 

POEMS 1-104 

Bachelor's Hall— A Song 102-103 

"Beaver", The 63-64 

Because Of The Irish That's In Me 32-34 

Blessed Assurance 9-10 

Bosky Dell 78-80 

Canada 43-44 

Carry A High Ideal 52-53 

Cast Up By The Sea 50-51 

Christmas 1890 34-36 

Ci^y Of Flowers, The 45-4? 

Compositioa, A 7778 

Coming Of The Stork, The 3-5 

Country Matters 16 

Delray To Prosper In Spite Of The Devil 51-52 

Drafts— A Substantive 21-22 

Evolution Of Nobility, The 42 

Fledgling's Fate, The 23-24 

Good Old Times, The 65 

How John Tod Conquered The Shushwaps 90-95 

Heights Beyond, The 5-7 

Hotel Royal Poinciana 47-48 

Humanity— A Toast 95-96 

Ideal Time, An 22-23 

In Honor of Dr. John Gorrie 97 

In Memoriam Sir Matthew Begbie 67 

Intoleration 70-71 

Is Your Title Clear? 7-8 

Jubilee Ode 43 

Keep Climbing 67-68 

ix 



1 



Land Of The Rising Sun, The 40.41 

Last Of 1890, The ' ' ^g^jg 

Life Is Like A Game Of Checkers. '.'. 68-69 

Mary. The Scottish Fishwife And Her Dos 27 

Men Worth While, The (Song) 3 

Miami's Great Show *"" 28 29 

Misery '"" " 

Mistakes Of The Muses 29-'0 

Moore, Byron And Scott ... 70 

Mother .■.'.■*.■;:.■:.■:::: $3.^ 

Munchausen's Adventure With Wolves 17-18 

Munyon's Enchanted Isle. ... 48 SO 

My Friend Jack ."."."".,*"" 57.53 

Nature's Comforters 53^54 

Ode In Anticipation Of The Drainage And 
Opening Of The Florida Everglades 

Country To Settlement 103-104 

OdeToASkuli ;;: 8,1^ 

Old Ireland Forever 44-45 

Only A Siwash Dog oo\q 

On Selling A Poem .'.■.;; .;; ;".; " " 20 

On This Day The Bicycle Girl Completes 

Her Thirty-Sixth Birthday jg 17 

?^*^"°"' The ;;;:::; gg.^^ 

Passing K.t Weary Willie, The . , . m 

Poet's Plight, A '.'.'.[[[[" 55.57 

Poel^ Welcome To His Firstborn, The is 

P^aye'-.A ••• 8-" 

Roscoe Club, The .; "; ' ^~ 

Ruminations By The Side Of A Florida 

Shell Mound 99.101 

Song For Apprentice Accountants, A ... 87-88 

Speech.A " 

Seasons, The ^"^ 

Soon To Be Deserted Village, The! I8 19 

Sunday In Hyde Park VKoa 

Sailor's Song 'f: 

"^^"-^^^^ :::::::::::;::::: 97-9^ 

X 



I?- • 



To My Sweetheart Plui 96.97 

To My Trunk 62-63 

To My Walking Stick 61-62 

That Flea 24-25 

Ties Masonic 59 

To Thee, Oh God " . . ." 34.35 

Vancouver JO-32 

Washington's Birthday 73 

What The Bellbuoy Says [,, 39 

When We're Dead And Gone 74.75 

World Is Full Of Poets, The 10-14 

TENDERFEET IN ALASKA (A FOUR-ACT 

COMEDY) 167.244 



Ii ) 



POEMS. WISE AND OTHERWISE 



THE MEN WORTH WHILE. 

(song.) 

There are knockers, there are grumblers, there are 
tenderfeet galore, 

Who will tell us what we can't do, and our littleness 
deplore ; 

There are fossils, too, grown hoary in their talk of 
what was done. 

In some other age and country that is underneath the 
sun. 

And again there are the critics always free with cynic 
smile, 

But the men who really do things are the men worth 
while. 

Human progress needs them sadly, they are scarce as 
ciiicken's teeth; 

When we meet them every person should be ready with 
a wreath ; 

For they have a world of worries to contend with as 
they go, 

Added to a world of prophets who predict they'll end 
in woe; 

And the risks they run to conquer, prove they earn the 
fruit of toil. 

And that men who really do things are the men worth 
while. 

THE COMING OF THE STORK. 

Life is full of tense excitement and you may, by taking 
thought. 
Get enthusiastically into line; 

[ 3 3 



You may catch it on the diamond and, whene'er the ball 
is caught, 
"Root" for home and jeer to scorn the other nine. 

You may catch it on the racetrack when, by betting 
ten to one. 
You make everybody think you've got a tip; 
And again you still may catch it and prolong the race- 
track fun, 
When admirers find they've got it in the hip. 

You may catch it when the battle rages round you on 
the plain. 
And the enemy are aiming at your head; 
When behind there's no retreating o'er the bloody heaps 
of slain 
And you're waiting to be numbered with the dead. 

You may catch it in the mountain, dodging avalanche 
of snow, 
While you're hunting grizzly bears to beat the 
band ; 
You may catch it on the prairie when you're shooting 
buffalo 
And an angry bull turns round and makes a stand. 

You may catch it in the ocean when a hurricane is on, 
And you never have been out before at sea : 

Yes, indeed, thr^'s where you'll catch it and you'll wish 
you hain't gone 
As you entertain the fishes to your tea. 

You may catch it in the river when the rapids catch 

your breath ; 

You may catch it where the breakers crash ashore ; 

It is in the mob-ruled city— it is on the burning heath— 

Or where sweetheart's father points you to the 

door. 

[4 ] 



But, bedad; as Pat would say it— If you want the 
rarest kind, 
The kind that makes you chipper as a cork : 
That keeps you months a-dancing and yet keeps you 
dancing blind. 
It's when waiting for the coming of the stork. 



THE HEIGHTS BEYOND. 

Have you ever faced the boulders that are hanging o'er 

the steep? 
Have you ever clung to brambles to enable you to 

creep ? 
Have you ever strained and struggled as you made the 

rough ascent ? 
H . you felt your foothold crumble as along your 

way you went? 
Have you ever looked below you and grown dizzy with 

the sight? 
Till you've turned for very safety to the overhanging 

height ? 
Have you ever, faint and weary, seen the brow that 

frowns above? 
Have you ever thanked your heaven that you soon 

would on it move? 
Have you then refreshed with promise of the rest you 

there would gain 
With redoubled efforts clambered up the last crags 

that remain. 
Then all breathless stood upon them— when behold! 

before you dawned. 
Not he summit of the mountain but the greater heights 

beyond. 

So it is in Life's long journey, we find hills we'd fain 
surmount 



[ 5] 



And we start to climb the ramparts, strewn with ills 

we cannot count. 
Blest with youth and health and vigor, we pick out our 

devious way. 
Fixing e'en the quiet shelter where at last our load will 

lay: 
And as we overcome each ill between us and our goal. 
We rise by slow degrees and cheer our all inspiring soul, 
Along the rugged path whereon we pant and strive and 

sweat, 
By whispering that yonder is the prize we soon shall 

get. 
And when, by seeming Titan power, we do at last 

succeed 
In getting where we thought, full sure, would be suc- 
cess indeed : 
When lo! We prove we've just begun to see the 

object fond; 
And if we still would win it, we must scale the heights 

beyond. 

There they stand serene and lovely and much clearer 

to the eye. 
Than when first from out the valley we looked on them 

in the sky. 
How they beckon to the climber! How they smile 

upon the view! 
How their snowcapped peaks are outlined and enhal- 

lowed by the blue. 
Round us still great chasms are yawning — huge ravines 

must yet be crossed. 
Nor may we retreat in safety for our footprints have 

been lost. 
On all hands grim troubles threaten and we'll have to 

suffer still, 
And be careful of the snowslide and each other name- 
less ill. 



[ 6 ] 



But behold ! Around the summit all the gorges seem 
to cease — 

There is there no sign of danger-there is there 

eternal Peace. 
Let us then climb on in patience till we've paid Life's 

greatest bond, 

And within Nirvana's portal reach at last the Heights 
Beyond. 



IS YOUR TITLE CLEAR? 

Can you read your title clearly to your land ? 
Does the abstract prove a seizin that will stand ? 

Has your lawyer made a search? 

Do the records show a smirch ? 
Are you satisfied you've got it at command? 

Spite of claim or cloud or flaw 

Spite of tax sale, lien or law- 
Can you read your title clearly to your land? 

Can you read your title clearly to your wealth? 
Did you earn it by your merit or by stealth? 

Is your money bathed in blood ? 

Did you find it in the mud? 
Did you get it at the price of helper's health? 

Was it gambled for and lost? 

Is it yours at honor's cost?— 
Can you read your title clearly to your wealth? 

Can you read your title clearly to your power ? 
Is it permanent or only for the hour? 

Can you bank upon your sway? 

Will it bring you through the fray? 
Will your victim always look at you and cower? 

Is it founded on a rock? 

Is it partly made of talk?— 
Can vou read your title clearly to your power? 

' 7 ] 



Can you read your title clearly to your name? 
Do you whisper it without a twinge of shame? 

Is there someone else should wear 

Any laurels that you bear? 
By exposure could he rob you of your fame? 

Are you really staunch and true? 

Can we class you with the few? — 
Can you read your title clearly to your name? 

Can you read your title clearly to your friend? 

Is he yours through thick and thin till life shall end? 

Have you knit him to your soul? 

Do you know his final goal? 
Can you swear that when you need him he'll attend? 

Has your love for him been pure? 

Will it evermore endure? — 
Can you read your title clearly to your friend? 

Can yf ' read your title clearly to your hope? 
Have you figured out exactly heaven's scope? 

Have you got a noble mind? 

Are you in the least confined? 
On the path you choose to travel do you grope? 

Is the place you aim to reach 

In the woods or on the beach? — 
Can you read your title clearly to your hope? 

Can you read your title clearly to the sky? 

Have you earned in spite of strife a home on high? 

Can you meet the pauper's gaze? 

Do the helpless sing your praise? 
Do the victims of misfortune know you're nigh? 

Will your life that we have seen 

Suit the lowly Nazarene? — 
Can you read your title clearly to the sky? 



[8] 



BLESSED ASSURANCE. 

(From a business man's standpoint). 
I am insured. I fear no fire : 
The flames may dance to heaven and higher. 
I've paid the price to gain relief — 
A newer house will end my grief. 
My home is mine by double right: 
Though burned it rises through the blight; 
E'en by the ashes I'm secured: 
I fear no fire— I am insured. 

I am insured. I fear no wind : 
Tornadoes can no longer blind. 
Great hurricanes may come and go — 
My roof to yonder yard may blow- 
But in the tempest I can see 
My hope inspiring policy. 
Though howling storm is faithless steward: 
I fear no wind — I am insured. 

I am insured. I fear no thief: 
From burglary I've bought relief. 
The midnight prowler takes his gain — 
He robs me but he robs in vain. 
E'en though my valuables depart, 
I'm proof against his sneaking art; 
Though by his wiles my wealth is lured: 
I fear no thief — I am insured. 

I am insured. I fear no chance: 
I smile at Fate and break his lance. 
No accident can make me quail ; 
Nor do I failing health bewail : 
Misfortunes that on these depend 
Are now forever at an end : 
What can't be cured must be endured: 
I fear no chance — I am insured. 

[9] 



I am insured. I fear no death: 
I'm now resigned to fleeting breath. 
My passing conies but in its train, 
My loved ones face no paupers' pain: 
One prop is gone but in its place, 
Another cornes by saving grace: 
Though long I have the grav? adjured, 
I fear no death~I am insured. 

THE WORLD IS FULL OF POETS. 

One said (and in the saying laughed to scorn the poet's 
art) 
That the day of poesy had long gone bv; 
So I asked her when she said it, if she'd ever learned 
by heart 
A poem, a verse, a line— to tell me why? 
And she faltered that her Shakespeare was an ever 
present friend 

Whose wise lines were interwoven with her 
prayers ; 
That indeed there were some later poets, too, she 
might defend : 
As they often with their balm relieved her cares. 

And I smiled, nor further questioned as I passed along 
my way — 
In her soul she was a poet like the rest ; 
For the world is full of poets; 'tis the poets' happiest 
day; 
There is scarce a mortal born not one confessed. 
Would you further prove my dictum ? would you know 
yourself aright? 
Would you test the inner sight and search the core ? 
Then I ask you, have you ever, in the stilly hours of 
night, 
Heard the moaning of the surf along the shot 

[ 10 ] 



Have you heard it whisper danger? Have you shud- 
dered with affright? 

WK "r.* f? f '" ^^^ *'^'*''' °^ '^'"dred gone before 

Who had faded to heed the warning and who vanished 

in the night; 

In the night within the surf along the shore? 

Or have you heard its music in the sunlight of the dav- 

time? ' 

Have you seen it clap its hands for very joy? 
Have you dreamed, while looking at it. of a long past 
youthful gay time 
Of a pleasure like the surf without alloy? 

Have you ever watched the emb.rs of a fire within the 
grate. 

When the gloaming crept around your curtained 
room? 

Have you wondered what you sa^^ there? Was it 
fancy? Was it Fate? 

An/'l' T '°'' ^°""'^^ ^''^''' *^^ gathering gloom? 

And at first you see a schoolfriend-then a sweet- 
heart — comes before you 
Then a dearer-ever dearer fills the view; 

1.11 from out the glowing ashes comes an echo "I adore 
You" 

And you rouse yourself to see. can it be true? 

Have you ever in a churchyard walked along with foot- 
steps slow 
Till you come within the precincts of a vault? 
Have you felt the eery impulse to squint sideways as 
you go? 

"^'^'^81°"?"'''"'''^ ^° ^^" ^ ''°'" demanding 
Have you stopped-then on your tiptoe ventured in 
beyond the portal. 

Have you held your breath and dared not turn 
your head? 

mi 



i 

] 



Have you shivered and grown ghastly, then remem- 
bered you were mortal 
And retired as one returning from the dead? 

Have you looked upon the cloudlets as they flitted o'er 
the sky? 
And beheld them, as they scampered, change their 
shape ? 
Have you suddenly grown thoughtful and recognized 
on high 
The outline of some well rememoered cape? 
Then before you quite could place it it becomes a lion 
bold 
And <s shaking at the heavens its shaggy mane; 
Till again your fleeting fancy sees the mass together 
n->-d. 
And it low becomes an Indian of the plain. 

See the feathers o'er his forehead ! See the blanket 
round his frame ! 
S- . his hand raised slowly upward as to speak ! 
Ha you almost heard him utter words of menace, 
words of blame, 
'- 1 within his hand a tomahawk you seek ? 
Have you then, as slow it faded, been reminded of his 
race? 
Have you felt a tug of pity at your breast? 
Have you moralized why progress must bis progeny 
efface ? 
H you have, then in that moral lies a test. 

Have you ever been to dreamland and, while there, 
have had a call 
From a friend you had forgotten many years? 



:ifM 



[ 12 ] 



Have you ever in your slumbers sccji the writing on 
the wall — 
Till you've mingled with resolves repentant tears? 
Have you ever seen a vision of the glorious heights 
above ? 
Have you fancied that they beckoned you to climb ? 
Have you listened in the silence to the gentle voice of 
love? 

Have you heard o'er worldly din the heavenly 
chime? 



I 



Has the touch of baby fingers— has the prattle of a 
child 
Ever spurred you into battle for the right? 
Has the innocence of virtue ever curbed your passion 
wild, 

And you've given to injured weakling of your 
might ? 
Has the pansy or the lily, or the little blushing rose, 
Ever seemed to you more human than a flower? 
Has the greatness of the mountain, crowned by never 
melting snows. 
Ever preached to you a sermon for the hour? 

Has o.;e query here put to you, of a former fate re- 
called ? 
Can you answer "yes" to one in point of fact? 
H you can, my friend, you need not ever more become 
appalled 
At the "afflatus divine" you thought you lacked. 
For whoever has in fancy with Dame Nature held 
communion ; 
Whoever has in silence heard a voice; 
Is an Adept and a Prophet and can join the Poet's 
Union ; 
Has a right among the Seers to rejoice. 



[ 13 1 



It may chance our rhyme is faulty-it may chance we're 
not inspired 
And the flights wc have remain within ourself; 
Or. perhaps, the great occasion has not yet our bosom 
fired, 

And we're plodding low to gather vulgar pelf- 
If howe'er some other rhymer with a line can cheer 
our way: 
Even this will make us stand the poet's test ■ 
For the world is full of poets; 'tis the poets happiest 
day- 
There is scarce a mortal born not one confessed. 

THE PASSING OF "WEARY WILLIE." 

Tf ChLT'h""" """""'«'" ""•' -ho fmally left hi. po.ition 
oL? Jr. ^ T'. ^.^'"^y""'" '" England. While in the 
office he had studied his way through Trinity College. The 
night work naturally made him "tired" in the day. 

Now no more will "Weary Willie' tell us how the 
tram was late; 

Now no more we'll hear of vigils to explain an aching 
pate; 

Now the bottle with the milk in never more will be in 
sight ; 

Now no dockets will be wanted-now at last the cash 
IS right; 

Now McShane looks sad and lonely, no one calls him 

"face divine;" 
Now Biggs waxes dark and gloomy-since he's gone 

who urged him shine; 
Now when 'prentice lads discover all unfilled the 

"bosses" chair, 

No demoniac shrieks of torture will disturb the office 
air; 

Now ne pride of landed gentry will no longer be our 



talk; 



[ 14 ] 



Ui. 



I 

I 



"^'^ tllT'"'" °' '•^*^"' -" ^'"«> none will 

''''^' ^7 ''' '" '^'^ "' ^'"^ « '-^ -h eye 

While beyond , he waste of waters "Weary WiilieV 
singing hymns. ^ 'v'nies 

THE POET'S WELCOME TO HIS FIRSTBORN. 
Welcome little stranger, welcome to our home- 
H you find .t meagre, hope for more to come 
All we have ,s yours, and we're yours as well • 
Welcome, little stranger- Lord, how you caV yell ! 

I'm your father, youngster; that's your mother ther..- 
U was us who brought you to this worlTof "a e 
We are glad we did it, but it's hard on you 
That ,s why we oflfer home and service too. 

I That is why we promise that our life shall he 

Con.se^rDted always to our fealty • 
I We have long expected such as you to come- 
I Gracous. how you're squirming! sure you do look rum. 

But I know you're ours. Here's my hand on that 
K.SS f3,, ^^^,.^^ (Gee. don^t that sound pat') 

K,ss your mother too. dear; she deserves it most 
For 3our sake already she was near a ghost. ' 

i W^^lcome. little stranger. Welcome to our home- 

. All we have ,s yours and we wish you bliss 
Welcome, httle stranger-here's another kiss 



[ 15 ] 



I 



I 



COUNTRY MATTERS. 

In memory of the celebration of Dominion Day, at Chicago 
during the World's Fair, 1893, and of the speeches of Carter 
Harrison, the Mayor, and J. 6. Locke, a Canadian Commissioner. 

Says Uncle Sam to Canada 
"My Dear, I like ycur style; 
"If you'll be true 
"I'll marry you — 

"Sure that is worth your while." 

Says Canada to Uncle Sam 
"You flatter me, dear mister; 
"For your great nerve 
"You much deserve — 

"So I will be your sister." 

"But surely, Miss, says Uncle Sam, 
"You cannot blame my notion; 
"Since parallel 
"Our countries dwell 

"From ocean unto ocean?" 

"Indeed, that's true," says Canada, 
"Your notion seems complete; 
"So to be fair, 
"We two may pair — 

"When parallels shall meet." 



ON THIS DAY THE BICYCLE GIRL COMPLETES 
HER THTRTY-SIXTH BIRTHDAY. 

(With apologies to Byron). 

Like one forlorn she rides along; 

No dudish glances near her stray; 
Her bloomers now attract no throng— 

She'.s had her day. 

[ 16 1 



'ii: 



Caai 



1 he chic of her new woman ways, 
Though once a never failin- c 
A victim to the cycling craze, 

Has com,- tc harjii. 

Of old she set the town agape 

As through its streets she whirled so fast • 
Of late, with limbs bent out of shape. 

She wobbles past. 

Her days are in the yellow leaf; 

The jaunty airs of youth are flown- 
A face that looks like sculptured beef 

Is hers alone. 

MUNCHAUSEN'S ADVENTURE WITH WOLVES 
I was galloping, galloping over the border 

Twixt Prussia and Russia in days that are oast- 
Over snowdrift and prairie with October rdor ' ' 
My good grey mare Peggy was galloping fal't; 

When suddenly out of a thicket there darted 

And . n -"^"''' ^°''' '^'' ' ''■'' I^-ve seen; 
And galloping, galloping after me started 

With blood in his eye and a murderous mien. 

The race seemed 
daunted. 
Poor Peggy I pestered with torturing whip • 

Bu^ f 'f •'•"' ^'-"'^P"' ^"^ I-nted and panted- 
But plain from the first she was losing her grt.: 

The breath of the wolf I soon felt on my shoulder 

I dot V'T\'"" ^"'^'^'^ P^^P-'"^ to spring. 
I dodged and thus happilv li,- ' ■ 



quite hopeless, but yet. nothing 



For 



o er me he flew like 



ived tn grow older,— 



a vulture on wing. 



f 17] 



w 



On galloping Peggy's hind-quarters he landed, 

And straightway began to make good his repast; 

While I kept on whipping, though now weary handed, 
Determined to keep up our speed to the last. 

And so while my whip on poor Peggy was falling. 
The wolf was devouring her out of her skin; 

For as each huge mouthful — the tale is appalling — 
Was torn from her carcase the monster went in. 

Till, would you believe it, (for once I was lucky), 
That wolf in the harness soon found himself 
caught. 

And as I had heard that, far other than plucky. 

The grit of a wolf could be counted as naught: 

I doubled my blows and by cleverest reining, 
I kept up the gallop that never had ceased : 

And just as the shadows of even ere waning, 

A light in the distance my courage increased. 

So steadily onward — no horse ever matched him — 
That wolf made a record unheard of before; 

Till once in the village the natives despatched him. 
And safe out of danger my gallop was o'er. 

THE SOOX-TO-BE DESERTED VILLAGE. 

Alaska, as everybody knows, is a very large territory. In the 
absence of a civilized population, which was largely the case when 
this poem was written, this vastness of area has some dis- 
advantageous sides to it. In no way, however, is it so annoying 
as at the semi-annual sittings of the district court, when, in 
order to get a grand jury together, subpoenas have to be sent 
out over a distance of several hundred miles. The court is 
usually held at Sitka, the capital, although by far the 
greater number of jurors have to be summoned from Juneau, 
the largest town — unfortunately, some 200 miles away. The 
Juneauites do not like this three-week compulsory vacation. In 
fact, old records, doctors' certificates, etc., etc., are never in 

[ 18 ] 



1^ 



oa s ^a IS I.ke a -ndemonium while the "boys" are therr 

n the country recue the poem almost from beginn^nr-o Tnd 
tlemen. that tells you all you want to know about Sitka." 

Sweet Sitka, loveliest village of the wild 
Undimmed attraction to the wandering ' child • 
Uhere Fall and Winter 'merged in one do stay 
lill tardy Spring their torrents drives away 
And where, when Summer comes, thy lonely charrr, 
to kiss, 

No other clime can boast such short-lived reign of bliss, 
How often have I climbed thy castle's height serene ;- 
And gazed abroad amazed, upon th. ^- ..ried scene 
Close bounded by the tombs upon .- . Vring steep 
VVhere rude forefathers of the sav. , ,vash sleep' 
rtow oft ,n pensive mood through native ranch I've 

strolled. 
Or by the barracks grim and Russian buildings old • 
Bes.de the great Greek church, the tumble-down fi;e 

hall ; 

The aged, worn-out mill, and Mission build, igs all • 
Or paced that only road, to lovers doubly dear, ' 
That leads to nature's haunts and Indian river near. 
But S.tka, hke sweet Auburn, of whose fate we all have 
read, 

Is dying, slowly dying-after court she will be dead. 



[ 19 ] 



ON SELLING A POEM 

A poet addresses his sister in the following manner: 

My dear forerunner from the self same womb; 
Who came to warn the world I too might come; 

Attend my lay! 
Or, if too prudish, better go thy way; 
For I feel funny now— I'm prone to shout— 
What's in me, like black murder, sure will out. 

And yet for all my glee, I wish you'ld stay ; 
Since I have something simply grand to say— 

A sweet bon mot; 
Indulge my fever, ere away you go, 
And for a time I'll hold unruly tongue 
In check, that you may catch its song. 

For 'tis a song of promise and of hope; 
I have Miss Fame so tethered with a rope 

She cannot budge; 
And if on me her smiles she seems to grudge; 
Great Caesar's ghost ! the flirt's within my power. 
And she will rue it if she looks too sour. 

You— who long since have seen me "mewl and puke—" 
As Shakespeare says— (so vain is shocked rebuke), 

And rocked my cot, 
And wished me, when I howled, in warmer spot— 
I have no doubt— you now can sympathize 
With the wild shriek I send to higher skies. 

You, whom I teased, boylike, to make you mad; 
Then fought and scratched and tore your clothes egad, 

And then sneaked off; 
Till you grew wise and laughed at painless chaff; 
And learned that wit assailed by vulgar force 
Gains with the contact power to clear its course. 

r 20 ] 



-1 



rv?',w'*"r'"'' r'"' *^°'" *'""°"«h "°«'ded years 
I ve swapped my shames my pleasures and my tears- 

Matched woe with woe— 

Now listen to my latest thrill before you go- 

Ive sold a poem. Rah! there goes my hat! 

Three cheers for Ireland and a kiss for Pat! 

DRAFTS-A SUBSTANTIVE. 

That would seem to have more than one meaning 

A Burdened Beast neighed his despair. 

Then kicked across the shafts; 
But all in vain hij efforts were 

To get aloof from "draughts." 

A Boy remarked with candor free 
That "draughts" were "dull as lead " 

'Because," said he, "I cannot see 
"More than one move ahead." 

A Draughtsman, asked to make a draught. 

Did all he could to shirk; 
"Because" said he, "'twould drive one daft 

Uraughts are so much like work." 

A Typist raised hci voice to show 

That law work was not clover- 
But "drafts" she called her chiefe'st woe 

For they must be done over. 

A Tourist, sobered down with years, 

The use of "drafts" decried; 
Since one, to calm each payer's fears, 

Must be identified. 



[ 21 ] 



! 



A Lubber showed his sailing skill 

By preference for rafts 
And gave for reason "they'ld not fill; 

Because rafts have no draughts." 

A Captain bold objected much 

To "drafts" upon his men; 
But Generals are like the Dutch 

They do the same again 

A Sage stroked down his hoary beard 
When men on "drafts" discussed 

And shivered out in accents weird: 
"Drafts" prove we are but dust. 

While thus at drafts fly venomed shafts 

From youth as well as age; 
Tis well to think, that, when we drink. 

Good "draughts" our thirsts assuage. 

AN IDEAL TIME. 

In memory of a private picnic which was arranged for, but—! 

Across the stream, amid the trees 

And fragrant fields of grass. 
Each lad of our acquaintance good 

Asked o'er some charming lass. 

A fire of brushwood soon was built, 

O'er which a pot was hung; 
Filled from a spring of Adam's ale 

We found the hills among. 

The contents soon began to boil, 

And then we had some tea; 
And those who don't believe we ate 

Should have been there to see. 

[ 22 ] 



We cleaned the baskets one by one, 

Of their delicious load, 
Of fish and meat and cakes and pie 

And berries d la mode. 

But luncheon o'er we quick began 
To skip and play quite curious, 

In fact, to quote from Bobby Burns, 
The fun grew "fast and furious." ' 

A lovely time indeed was spent 
With hammocks, swings and such; 

While tennis, quoits and croquet, too. 
Took up attention much. 

'Twas midnight past before we thought 

Of ending up the day. 
And then with ev'ry basket light 

We homeward bent our way. 

The only drawback to our sport. 

Amid those fields of grass, 
Was this,— a trifling one, 'tis' true— 

// never came to pass. 

THE FLEDGLING'S FATE. 

In a nest lined with leaves, 

'Neath the sheltering eaves', 

A fledgling once railed at its fate • 

Saying: Why should I sigh, 

While other birds fly; 

Yet lazily sit here and wait. 



m ] 



I too have got wings, 

And can use them it sings; 

Nor will I mope longer alone; 

Let me once leave this nest, 

And I'll soar with the best 

E'en though I be only half grown. 

But it found to its cost, 

How in vain was such boast; 

As it pressed from its eave-covered shed ; 

For it dropped with a groan 

On a pavement of stone, 

Where it fluttered and gasped and was dead. 

Let us learn by the fall. 

Of this fledgling so small. 

That, to soar, we must first know the way. 

If success we would share; 

For attainment prepare; 

Nor expect to be great in a day. 



THAT FLEA. 

Ah ! there I've caught you in the very act ; 
Fiend, who the quiet of my leisure wracked; 
Now never more your movements will distract; 

I have you firm. 
Safe 'twixt my fingers, all in vain your tact ; 

There must you squirm. 

Black breasted villain, would that with like ease, 
I might now crush with one unsparing squeeze, 
From all your kind the life that can so tease ' 

Poor tortured man; 
And once for aye annihilate all fleas 

From out the land. 

[24] 



ill 



ii 



id. 



m. 



Then might I gain a sweet and full revenge, 
And for your bites one fatal pinch exchange;— 
G'ad.y your corpses in a row I'd range 

That all might see, 
How I had rid mankind of more than mange— 

The genus flea. 

But why so quiet? Are you stilled at last? 
Why yield so quickly to the fateful blast? 
Hush ! Till I gaze and gloat upon the ghost 

Of one laid low; 
And happy, view how life and death contrast 

In conquered foe. 

But hold ! My all too ready boast is vain. 

Not even one of hated hosts is slain. 

E'en while I talked my slippery coated bane 

Elusive fled: 
And down my back I feel his fangs again— 

Would I were dead. 

SUNDAY IN HYDE PARK. 

One of the fashionable breathing spaces for London. England. 
Morning. 

Along the Row to Marble Arch 
Wealth's famed procession passes by; 
Sweet ladyships with glancing eye, 
And lordships stiff in shining starch: 
A gaitered foot, a stove pipe head. 
An upturned nose, with wine grown red, 
A purple robe, a stately strut. 
Ringed ears to all but flatt'ry shut: 
List to the nothings that they say. 
As each proud group goes on its way. 
They're happy in their little game, 



[ 25 ] 



And I will be the last to squeal; 

For I confess it to my shame 
I know exactly how they feel. 

Afternoon. 

Wild speakers on imported stumps; 
Surrounded i)y excited mobs, 
Tell how the rich the poor man robs, 
And w.th one hand the other thumps. 
The tortured air is full of saws 
About the curse of wealth-made laws; 
1 III on the outskirts of a crowd 
Some doubting Thomas swears aloud 
Then walks away in arch disgust 
While after him flics parting thrust. 

Perhaps reforms are born that way • 
I cannot blame e'en useless zeal ; 

I've tried reforming in my d'aj 
And know h v happy zealots feel. 



Evening. 



The moonlight streams near shady seat 
Secluded from the worldly breeze ■ 
Where lips with vows fond hearts would ease 
Vet hearts uneased with loudness beat. 
To rest and count the stars I'm fain ; 
But for a nook I search in vain; 
'Tis lovers' hour within the Park, 
And each still nook and cranny dark 
Is lighted bv love's spluttering wick— 
Whose splutter sounds like pistol click. 

I must begone— I dare not stay- 
Tight, straining arms my doom will seal • 
^ Poor things it is their happiest day • ' 
I've felt the raptures lovers feel. 



[26] 



MARY, THE SCOTTISH FISHWIFE. AND HER 

DOG. 

Mary had a little dog, 
With teeth just like a shark; 

And ev'rything that Mary said, 
Would make that doggie bark. 

It followed her to town each day, 
Though not against her wish, 

For it appears her aim in life 
Was selling 'caller" fish. 

And when she sang her humble cry 

Upon the stone-paved stref^t, 
The dog to help was never shy. 

But loud her voice did greet. 

And as she marches on her way, 

The dog ne'er far behind, 
With shaking tail and panting breath. 

Much custom helps to find. 

For ' the people hear that bark, 
ihv, ..iiow that May is nigh; 

And haste to get their dishes out. 
That they some fish may buy. 

But should some evil disposed one 

His mistress try to rob, 
That dog is there with sharkish teeth. 

To make the culprit sob. 

And as this world goes on apace, 
And grows and fades the heather. 

These simple two are never seen 
Except they are together. 

[27 ] 



'<■ 



jii' 



And as they travelled on through life, 
Their friends found out at length 

Their well proved motto had been this :— 
In unily is strength. 

MIAMI'S GREAT SHOW. 

They may talk of the World's Fair at Paris 

And the sights that were there to be seen ; 
They may think that Chicago could harass 

And make smaller ventures look mean • 
But we know that they all are mistaken; 

Such exhibits will scarcely compare- 
( If the same things from each should be taken-) 

With Dade county's wonderful Fair. 

What with orange and grapefruit and lemon, 

With tangerine, pawpaw and lime; 
With pineapple, pepper, persimmon 

And mango (to keep up the rhyme) 
With compte, kohl-rabi, cassava, 

Figs, dates, pomegranates in store, 
Sapodilla delicious and guava, 

And mellow bananas galore; 

With pears avocado, tomatoes. 

And turnips and lettuces sweet; 
With plantains, peas, beans and potatoes 

With cocoanut, olive and beet; 
With cauliflower, carrot and onion 

And cucumbers juicy and cool; 
With corn— yes, but not any bunion— 

(Which is named to keep metre in rule.) 

What with parsnips and parsley and Dutch-like 

Oreen cabbage and celery head; 
Asparagus, spinach and such like 

[ 28] 



*ii 



And strawberries, luscious and red; 
What with sugar cane, melon and kumquat ; 

With pumpkins of every grade; 
With egg-plants and okra and what not : 

All grown in the gardens of Dade. 

All ripened by tropical sunshine. 

And seasoned with Everglade dew; 
Such trophies from hammock and high pine 

On no other soil ever grew ; 
Let them talk of Chicago and Paris 

Let then even take Eden in tow- 
But nothing they say can embarrass 

Or belittle Miami's Great Show. 

MISTAKES OF THE MUSES. 

"Apropos the letter of Geo. W. Wilson of the T. U & C in 

!„H*"f'1^'""' °^ ''" "•'"''*''" ^^''^ ^' reproduce- hereunder, 
and of the various editorials throughout the State of Florida 
w.th regard to the Dade County Fair and its influence in redeem- 
ing the reputation of the editor of the Homeseeker. a sweet singer 
of Uade County rises to the occasion in the following flights:" 

In Memoriam E. V. B. 
(Before the Fair.) 
Here "lies" Brother Blackman, who in death as in life 
Stdl holds to the habit that caused him such strife; 
If the soil where he's planted is rich, as he said. 
Then look out for more lies-he'll not long be dead. 

(After the Fair.) 
Requiescat in Pace. 
Since the words above written were cut in cold stone 
The Miami Fair makes all Florida moan. 
Salt tears to scared eyes now for Riackman are welling - 
For sure he'll be back here— 'twas truth he was telling. 



[ 29 1 



•OFFICE OF FLORIDA TIMES-UNION AND CITIZEN 
Ed,to. Mmm. Nhws- J^'='<*°"-''e. Fla.. April 8. 1901. " 

But n J r " ^"'^ ^'''"" *"•»'""'• ^'^ slashed liberaTly 

SaUl k""" '° '""''" " ^"5' ^^«"k, open apology to Dr" 
the DTde' r T p°' *'k '"^""'" ""^ "*"> ■■" the'Ja^! and 

exhSn' 'l ?^ :'*'""* "^ •'"''*'^^«^ °f 'his wonderfu! 
-but n^r""'' 7,r -*"-«^>-s. celery, and many S'thi^S 

Geo. W. Wilson. 
VANCOUVER. 

What, with its promise as the terminus of the greatest railway 

wo S "Extl^or" to", "''* '""T "" ""'*= " P-"^" "the 
txcelsior to lure a youth to his doom. 

The summer's sun was waning low 

Behind a western hillock's brow; 

As, by a h'ttle pamphlet caught, ' 

An Eastern youth first grasped the thought,- 

"Vancouver." 
As if by instinct forth he drew 
His purse, and searched it through and through: 
And as enou£r^ he there espied 
To pay his way, he loudly cried,— 

"Vancouver." 
[ 30 ] 



"What! What is that?" the old man said. 
You are not fit to earn your bread." 
He turned, and fire flashed from his eye, 
As half suppressed all heard this cry,— 

"Vancouver." 

His many friends gave kind advice, 
And from his purpose to entice 
Tried ev'ry means they could conceive; 
But with this word he took his leave.—' 

"Vancouver." 

"Oh, do not go!" the maiden sighed, 
With look that would a god have tried ; 
But true unto his purpose still, 
He answered back, in accents shrill,— 

"Vancouver." 

Great cities smiled to take him in 
As on his way he heard their din ; 
But on their flatt'ring smiles he frowned. 
And in this shriek their din was drowned,— 

"Vancouver." 

Across the prairie, wild and wide, 
His onward course he daily hied ; 
Though shot on shot he saw at game. 
His course and song was still the same,— 

"Vancouver." 

The Rocky mountains soon at hand. 
He scaled their heights not yet unmanned; 
And clambered over cliff and ford. 
Repeating oft the self- same word— 

"Vancouver." 



r 31 ] 



Through gorge and canyon lies his way, 
His purse— not spirit— fails each day; 
For nothing daunted, on he hies. 
And echoes answer from the skies,— 

"Vancouver." 

At last, quite "broke," he sights the town; 
The natives greet him with a frown: 
Too great the shock, he forward falls, 
But dying, still that cry recalls,— 

"Vancouver." 

And now he lies unwept, unsung. 
The scarred and straggling stumps among; 
While not far from the unhonored dead 
Goes on with brisk and busy tread,— 

"Vancouver." 



( ,iit 



BECAUSE OF THE IRISH -^r. \T'S IN ME. 

This song was written as a contribution to an amateur news- 
paper called the Longfellow Literary Review, read at a meeting 
of a society of the same name held at Juneau, Alaska, on the 
17th of March, 1891. 

It was composed just before Parnell's death, and while he was 
laboring under a cloud occasioned by his expose in the O'Shea 
divorce suit. 

"The Irish that's in me" is that which I obtained from my 
mother, both of wuose parents, I am proud to say. were originally 
from the land of Erin and Shamrocks. 

What makes me feel angry when Ireland's traduced? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 
Why drink I so deep to an Irishman's toast? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 
What makes my blood boil, when I think of the laws 
(Of hard times in Ireland the positive cause) 
Encroaching on freedom, then asking applause? 

It's because of the Iri'ih that's in me. 



[ 32 



What makes me resent being wound lil:e a spool ? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 
Why am I so ready to fight for Home Rule? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 
Why do I like Gladstone, can anyone tell? 
Why do I make bold to stand up for Parnell? 
What makes me remember that angels once fell? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 

Oh, why am I soothed when "Killarney" is sung? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 
And why does Moore's "Tara" to memory cling? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 
Why have I a right to aspire to the fame 
Of a Goldsmith's, a Steele's, a Sheridan's name? 
For leanings to Gulliver, what is to blame? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 

Why is it I relish an Irishman's wit? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 
What sets me uproarious when Pat makes a hit? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 
When an Irish girl, roguish, and buxom, and coy. 
Smiles sweetly and calls me the broth of a boy; 
Why is it I almost flow over with joy? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 

Why is it I always am making mistakes? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 
Why is it I'm prone to say "jabbers and faix"? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 
When seventeenth of Ireland 'round on us has worn, 
Explain why with Shamrocks my coat I adorn, 
Singing gaily "St. Patrick's Day in the Morn"? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 



[33 ] 



Why is it I'm careless in fixing my duds? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 
Why am I enamor'd of murphies and spuds? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 
When the "cratur's" around, what makes me so shy? 
And why do I watch it w-th wistfullest eye? 
Then find in surprise I'm infernally dry? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 

Why am I a post at which everyone kicks? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 
Why is my poor head a fam'd target for bricks? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 
Why do I forgive and forget ev'ry frown? 
An.- sing to amuse and make friends like a clown? 
Wlcn ev'ryone's wishing for me to sit down? 

it's because of the Irish that's in me. 



(As an encore) 

What makes you all wild now to hear an encore? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 
Why on my weak efl^orts such plaudits you pour? 

It's because of the Irish that's in me. 
But, friends, I've too often the Blarney stone kissed- 
Protection I'll find behind Sullivan's fist; 
Defending my honor, your necks he will twist; 

All because of the Irish that's in me. 

CHRISTMAS, 1890. 

At the time these lines were written 'here were few railroads 

nectf r?H 'ir " "i'"'^' ^""^ '" -'"^" even stealboa con 
WmZ.r / ""*'?'^' ^"'■'•^ ^" ^'''''- The arrival of the 
bi-monthly steamer with mail and provisions from "below" (a, 
.nywhere south of that country is called) was consequently an 

fact , "f !r" T"""*- ""' J""^''"' Sitka, Wrangel, or, !n 
fact, any of the settlements at which it called, the approach of 
the steamer at any hour of the day or night was the signal fo 
a hurry and bu.tle that would do credit to a town tertimes 

[34] 



il 



their combined size. Even the usually stoical natives were 
noticed 'to get a move on." The small boys, and many of the 
bigger ones, too, for that matter, set up a series of catcalls 
halloos and yells of "steamboat," which, added to the deep 
resounding whistle of th. vessel as it gave warning of its arrival 
made it utterly impossible for anyone to live within a mile of 
the settlement and not know that the mail boat had arrived 
Juneau was composed entirely of "wanderers from home." so 
that some of the feelings portrayed in "Xmas. 1890" were 
pretty common property among the prodigals in that far-away 
part ot our continent, many of whom, like the author, were just 
out of their "teens." •• 

Tidings from home! Glad tidings from home! 
Christmas morning, ar.'f tidings from home! 
Ring out, ye wild bells, till your tongues you destroy; 
You cannot interpret a tithe of my joy. 

To-day when I wakened from sleep to my fate, 
My heart was weighed down with my lonely estate; 
In sadness I nurtured each grief and each care;— 
The thought that 'twas Christmas increased my despair : 
So when out pierced the cry of "Steamboat! the 

steamboat !" 
A slight choking sensation welled up in my throat; 
But on pond'ring a moment, thinks I. with a groan;' 
There'll be nothing for me, I'm forgotten and lone ; 
Yet still a faint hope goaded onward my feet 
To the post-office building— all Juneau's retreat. 
But there in a corner, shame-faced I stood. 
Till the crowd had dispersed with their tidings of good ; 
For I feared to be told with the people around. 
That for "Currie, G. G." not a note could be found. 
When the office was clear, to the wicket I went, 
And with nonchalant air gave anxiety vent; 
And then with a quick beating heart in my breast, 
Waited doubtfully hopeful to see was I blest: 
Imagine my wonder, excuse my surprise. 
As incredulous gazing I saw 'fore my eyes. 
Not one. but six letters in handwriting dear, 
Addressed to myself quite convincingly clear; 

[ 35 ] 



1 



I grabbed them elate.— broke open each seal; 
And devoured their contents with a feverish zeal; 
And my rapture grew greater as I in my glee 
Read the heaps of kind wishes there written for me • 
i<or among the loved names that appeared at the end's. 
Were those of my father, my sister, and friends. 

Tidings from home! Glad tidings from home' 
Christmas morning, with tidings from home' 
Ring out. ye wild bells, till your tongues you destroy 
You cannot interpret a tithe of my joy. 

THE LAST OF 1890. 

I sat by the fireside, sobbing, sighing. 
To think that the year was slowly dying. 
When to stop its course was useless trying. 

All power was vain. 

^Id '90 had lived its alloted space, 
It had run Life's short and fitful race, 
And would soon join in en route to grace 

The gospel train. 

And as I sat,— saw the embers glowing. 
Thinks I, while the wind outside was blowing. 
Had '90 for me a healthy showing, 

Or otherwise? 

And I pondered it o'er with weighty thought. 
Recalled each trifling bliss it brought. 
But alas ! found no great good it wrought. 

That I might prize. 

The whole year, almost from beginning. 
Despite resolves, had found me sinning; 
And this kept in my mem'ry dinning, 

As there I mused, 
r 36 ] 



Why should I then its death regret? 
Ah! there's the rub, that makes me fret: 
I'd fain the reason quite forget, 

Till more enthused. 

You see— or rather— now I'm vexed; 
Such prying questions make me mixed; 
You should not, Thought, get persons fixed 

In such a box. 

I liked old '90, spite of trouble. 
E'en though my sins increased to double, 
Though life seemed scarcely worth a bubble, 

To most of folks. 

So now, old pard, God speed you well, 
And keep you free of far famed h— 1 ; 
Some wished you there this long, long spell,— 

The rascal crew. 

And since young '91 you're here, 
I'll stand the treats: cigars or beer? 
You're hardly old enough, I fear. 

For stronger stew. 

But hold! The temp'rance men might shout, 
And call me villain out and out; 
For tempting you their worth to doubt; 

Alack the day! 

"So gie's your hand, we'll aye be friends" 
(As Sandy says) to make amends ; 
And that your stay no ill forfends, 

We'll trust and pray. 



r il 1 



In Juneau, that's where I'm residing. 
The boys need someone by for chiding; 
I hope you'll do some trusty guiding. 

And guard them true. 

And when, my friend, your hours are ending. 
When l.fe with death is slowly blending 
I think— I kno without contending, 

I'll sigh for you. 

ONLY A SIVVASH DOG. 

Siwash) dog. We were^rnLhi half-starved Eskimo (or 

village or LtZir: Z Zl Td oT th^' T"'" '^°'" '"' 
visitor seemed fully aware It hlTI' Tt [ *"' '"^^ °"'" ""*"« 
by some wandering Zty of InTan? 'and'" ''''''°"'" °" '""''" 
track had concluded i^JitloilZ'uZ foTL^e fa?" °"^ 

=T.eir:s.S"-r ;;:r ,-- -^'- -"^^ 

from the nearest suppirpUce we could InT ".T ''"•"" 
meal. Grateful for what'litt"; we did spare t^e H T"""' " 
canoe in sight all mornin» . j \. '^ ' *''' ^°^ ^^P* our 

the mouth oran1ni:t-TtT;asT o:r'mileract:^r;r T" 
recognized its predicament, and for hours iuLwIf ^^^ "'' 

wnHdeirar rrin -7 w^- vriL-iatr^ 

but while the s'ouni'wL'stni rTg n7°n '^ e: r th« J"^''T' 
ta...ed on shore hy stress of wefthfr I "V/rt'rJtrw^h.t 

Only a Siwash dog, gaunt, ugly and lean; 
Too currish to run, yet ashamed to be seen; 
Yellow and stunted, of famine the mark; 
Worthless, excepting to eat and to bark- 
Deserted on shore by his master and friends, 
With a shy, furtive look to our camp he descends 



r 38 1 



A one in Alaska-bleak, barren and wild, 
Where mountains of rock on each other are piled • 
Alone on a strand where encampments are few' 
Where mankind is scarce, and where dogkind is too; 
Where food is so precious that none could wc spare- 
ly rom hampers already harassingly bare. 

Only a Siwash dog. gaunt, ugly and all; 
Why worry about it. his earnings are small. 
Yet still, as I gaze on that keen, wistful eye 
In search of the place where our eatables lie. 
My heart with me pleads and his hunger I feel 
Till pity compels me to give him a meal. 

At length we embark and row out from the bay - 
The dog follows hard, on the beach, half a day 
But woe to his hopes for a crossing we make 
1 hat leaves him a prisoner far in our wake 
Out stands he on point jutting into the sea 
And howl after howl shows his deep misery. 

Only a Siwash dog, gaunt, ugly and lean ; 
Does It matter at all what his ending has been' 
Perhaps not ; but yet as we paddle along 
Commingling life's struggles with story and song, 
loo clear m the pauses I hear on the wind. 
That dumb brute's appeals, as we left him behind. 

WHAT THE BELLBUOY SAYS. 

Far out on the surf of a rockbound coast, 

The bellbuoy lonely tolls. 
And utters its weird, uncanny boast 

O'er the deep's uncounted ghouls. 

[39 J 



mm 



f I 



It rises and falls with the restless tide,— 
No sea can immerse its song; 

The wind and the wave alike defied, 
But strengthen its dong ding dong. 

Tolling, tolling, patiently tolling, 
Over the billows swelling and rolling, 
Dong ding dong, dong ding dong. 
Look to your helm, your course is wrong; 
Dong ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, 
This is the bellbuoy's lonely song. 

Many a mariner shrouded in fog- 
Feeling his doubtful way- 
Relies to his cost on compass and log, 

Till warned by that timely lay. 
We too might be warned as we enter the mist 

On Life's beclouded main, 
For a voice in our bosom, if we but list. 
Is singing the self-same strain 

Tolling, tolling, patiently tolling. 

Over Life's billows swelling and rolling, 

Dong ding dong, dong ding dong. 

Look to your helm, your course is wrong ; 

Dong ding dong, ding c'ong, ding dong. 

This too is conscience's whispered song. 

THE LAND OF THE RISING SUN. 

(Written in North Bend. Oregon, ir the Winter of 1891) 
They may talk of the West, of the wild, woolly West, 

With its valleys and lountains of gold. 
Where the bear and the beaver alone can molest 

The miner who digs in its mould ; 
Yet, in spite of its wonders, its wealth, and its weald, 

E'en though they be ten times increased. 
To my sad, aching heart, they can never impart 

The joys that were mine in the East. 

[40] 



I 



It was there that I first saw the light of the day, 

And when boyhood upon me had crept, 
Where I rambled and gamboled, or, tired out with play. 

On pillows of innocence slept; 
Where in youth, somewhat sobered, in booklore I delved 

To find out its treasures and worth. 
Or in social debate with companions sedate, 

On subjects abstruse have held forth. 

It was there that young Cupid discovered my heart, 

And despite all my struggles and wiles 
Sent with unerring aim his most dangerous dart,— 

For I've been ever since in his toils; 
Twas there, too, ambition first harrowed my brain. 

And before I was even aware, 
Set me chisel in hand, carving futures in sand, 

And building up castles in air. 

It is there that my sister, kind-hearted and true. 

Plods peacefully onward through life; 
And 'tis there that my brother bade early adieu 

To earth's pleasure and passion and strife; 
It is there 'neath the sod, all oblivious to care, 

That my father and mother lie low. 
While the grass o'er their graves, in the breeze gently 
waves 

And beckons wherever I go. 

Though to far foreign climes my fleet fate I pursue 

Still my thoughts ever backward do roam. 
And I often recall my last ling'ring adieu 

To the friends in that dear distant home; 
And I sigh for a time which wili cenainly come. 

When my longings and wand'rings have ceased; 
Then its thither I'll fly, there to settle and die, 

Near my dear native home in the East. 



[ 41 ] 



THE EVOLUTION OF NOBILITY. 

The Iron Age. 

In the times of Norman William 

He who fain would be a lord, 
Had to fight his way to glory, 

And with blood bedew his sword. 
Then— according to the Savons— 

Greatest peers were pr- ..tes, knaves; 
And they were the noi^l- t uarons 

Who had filled most patriot graves. 

The Brazen Age. 

In fi days of much wived Henry, 

And the days of second Charles,' 
/^ve became the happy medium 

That transformed the rogues to Earls 
Were you then a humble Mister, 

You your lowly lot must bear. 
Till you got a pretty sister 

Or a daughter that was fair. 

The Golden Ace. 

But the sword has lost its savor ;— 

Love and business sometimes clash ;— 
If you'ld now be high in favor, 

You must pay the price in cash. 
Lenient smiles are not unwelcome; 

Nor for that a warrior's suit; 
Yet if you can buy a Dukedom— 

You can have the rest to boot. 



[ 42 ] 



JUKILEE ODE. 

queen ann.verwry of the crowning of V.cor.a. 

Blow loud and long the trumpets, 
Let music fill the air; 

Rejoice, rejoice, ye patriots; 
Shake off all toilsome care. 

Come forth, ye faithful subjects. 
And shout the Klad'ning strain; 

Sing out the glorious gospel- 
Victoria still doth reign. 

Through fifty long and changing years, 

With firm, yet loving hand. 
She's carried out a nation's will. 

And boldly ta'cn her stand; 
Her sway is felt o'er land and wave. 

And many a distant shore 
This day resounds with notes of praise 

For her whom we adore. 

Then let us all in unison 

Sing out the joyful tune; 
Our queen in truth wears golden crown. 

This twenty-first of June. 
Come all ye loyal maidens. 

Chant our triumphal glee; 
With one accord we'll celebrate 

Our Sov'reign's Jubilee. 



CANADA. 

Oh Canada, thou fairest child. 

Of Britain old and strong; 
A home-proud bard thy wondnotes wild 

Would crystallize in song: 

r 43 ] 



Thy realm so healthy, rich and vast 

Is lapped by many a sea; 
Thy lakes and rivers unsurpassed 

Are emblems of the free. 

Thy mountains filled with wealth untold 

High up in air do rise; 
Their snow cap'd tops in mists of gold 

Are hidden from our eyes. 
Thy woodlands bloom with lordly pines, 

And maples fresh and green. 
Thy valleys, cover'd o'er with grain, 

Are smiling with its sheen. 

May Peace, Prosperity and Power, 

Be thine for evermore; 
May staunch Integrity, thy dower, 

Be known from shore to shore: 
May thy good name ne'er tarnish'd be 

By tyrant's cruel hand: 
This, Canada, I wish for thee. 

My own, my native land. 

OLD IRELAND FOREVER. 
Written for my Iriah friends, R. J. H. and J. A. M. 

Though Burns and Scott with poets' skill 
Have famous made each Scottish rill; 
Though Hogg makes many a bosom thrill, 
I must confess, I'm Irish still. 

Though England, with unwonted zeal, 
To Shakespeare's genius may appeal- 
Though she may proud of Dickens feel, 
I love the land of Swift and Steele. 



[44 ] 



Though Frenchmen laugh at Moliere's mirth 
Or read of Hugo round their hearth • 
Though Germans talk of Goethe's worth 
I'm from the land of Goldsmith's birth. 

Though Yankees, with a patriot smile, 
May praise Longfellow's winning style 
Or talk of Irving all the while, 
I'd fain have Moore my hours beguile. 

Though poets near and far abroad 
Their home and country well may laud, 
I still with fervor pray that God 
Will bless my own dear Erin's sod. 

THE CITY OF FLOWERS 

All you who dread Winter, with what it implies, 

in the far away realms of Jack Frost • 
And you who are stricken when Dame Nature dies, 

And would fly from her snows at all cosf 
And you, too, who toil, yet are tired of the slrife 

And think you've earned leisure to spare • ' 
And you who are seeking a new lease of life 

But can find no environment fair; 

Oh say, won't you come to our City of Flowers— 

To our homes amid greensward and bloom- 
Where while o'er your bleak land the blizzard cloud 
lowers. 

We are basking in bowers of perfume 
Oh say. won't you come where the palms whisper low 

And the tall oleanders wave free; 
Where the royal poincianas, in scarlet aglow. 

Are bowing and beckoning to thee ? 

[ 45 1 



Oh say, won't you come and enjoy, while you may, 

The enchantment of Tropical skies; 
And see the famed sunsets that hallow our day. 

And the love-storied moonlight we prize. 
Oh say, won't you come and breathe zephyrs of 
health. 

In a bourne where youth ceases its flight; 
Where the days creep upon us with unperceived 
stealth. 

And we dream away care in a night? 

Oh come, and be charmed with our redbird's bright 
wing, 
With the plumes of the lovely bluejay; 

And list to the songs that the mockingbirds sing- 
Feel the throb of our whippoorwill's lay. 

Oh say, won't you come and be clasped in the brine, 
Of the Southland's warm billowy wave, 

As it flashes and glints in the merry sunshine, 
Or breaks at our feet as we lave? 

Won't you come and hook "kings" from our ocean- 
swept pier? 

Won't you troll for lake trout as we sail? 
Won't you follow the fawn in our Everglades near; 

And encamp on the Seminole's trail? 
Or come, if you will, and be one at the fea^t 

That we offer of grapefruit and pine; 
Of the orange and banana and mango— nor least. 

Of the pear avocado divine. 

Oh say, won't you come— or if Fashion's the wile 
That must lure you from Boreal Blast; 

We can boast in "The Season" society's smile. 
And of "functions" a daily repast. 



* 



[ 46 ] 



Then conie! Oh. do come! to our City of Flowers 
And partake of our bliss we beseech ' ' 

^or°lw:::""^^'^^^— -^-h-gethe. 

Of the Heaven that you'll find at PALM BEACH. 

HOTEL ROYAL POL\CIAXA. 
Royal Poinciana! Hostelry complete' 

Monarch of Inns and chief of all resorts! 

Withm thy walls, about thy beauteous courts 
Meander guests from many a far retreat. 

Luxurious ease upon the grandest scale 

Presentsitself to all who woo thy bliss; 

Music and wine and mayhap Siren's kiss 

Conspire to hold them in thy pleasant pale. 

Strength beauty, wisdom, coronets and power 
Are all attracted by thy multi charms: ' 

Ins.de thy gates would stretch each honeyed hour. 

Diamonds and sparkling eyes in conflict rare 
Venus disdainful though Adonis pleads ' 
Statesmen and magnates in unstudied deeds. 

Might well entice the most fastidious stare. 

But these are merely items in the bill 
Relieved by backgrounds in some palm tree grove. 
VV here golfers gather, or where nimrods rove 

And catch complainings of the whippoorwill. ' 

Thy ball room floor, where happy couples meet. 
V\«th grace and chivalry revives the eve, • 
Th> vast rotunda while "The Season'' vies. 

The world concedes is "Fashion's very seat." 
[ 47 J 



Royal Poinciana! Millionaires' delight! 

Goal of the tourist, antipodes of care! 

Where is there Inn that can with thee compare? 
Where is resort where time makes quicker flight ? 

MUNYON'S ENCHANTED ISLE. 

Come all ye frost enshrouded, 

Come ye, by earthquake tost; 
Come ye, by storm o'erclouded, 

And ye in blizzard lost; 
From lowland and from highland, 

From mountain, \ale and plain 
En route to Munyon's Island 

Come, join the crowded train. 

The way may seem to weary. 

The journey may be long; 
But what at first is dreary. 

Will end in flowers and song. 
For in a dreamy ocean. 

Beneath Floridian skies. 
The Isle of our devotion 

In tropic grandeur lies. 

Chameleons in the banyans 

Display their opal hues; 
And redbirds vie with bluebirds 

Their brightness to diffuse; 
Orange blossoms scent the breezes 

That waft o'er land and sea; 
While song of mocker pleases 

And fills the air with glee. 



[ 48 ] 



Tall palms are proudly waving 

A welcome to the host, 
To test Hotel Hygiea— 

The gourmet's loudest boast. 
To come and try the fishing. 

The boating and the views; 
And thus instead of wishing, 
'IN FACT dull care to lose. 

From out Hygiea's watchtower 

You'll see Worth's ebbing tide 
Pass gaily thro' the Inlet 

To swell Atlantic wide; 
You'll see great ocean liners 

Upon the near gulf stream, 
Low down by treasure laden. 

Drag trains of smoke and steam. 

The shell-strewn shore lies whitening 

As o'er its length you scan. 
From Coniff's Island hermitage 

To lone Manalapan; 
At Jupiter, the lighthouse 

Stands out by night or day, 
While yonder is the Everglades, 

A few short miles away. 

You'll see Mangonia pine fields 
And Riviera's groves ; 

And fancy woodnyniphs sporting 
In fair Lantana's coves. 

Here Juno's sawgrass marshes, 
There Hypoluxo's farms. 

Or gay Palm Beach in easier reach- 
Ail lend their varied charms. 



[ 49 J 



Then, come ye frost enshrouded, 

And ye by earthquake tost; 
And ye by storm o'erclouded 

And ye in blizzard lost; 
From lowland and from highland 

From mountain, vale and plain; 
Come rest on Munyon's Island 

And renewed youth obtain. 

CAST UP BY THE SEA. 

Just above high water mark on the beach at Boca Raton* 

the re^r ."""''' '''°"'''' '""^ '" ' '""^'^ ^^'''^ '" -"1*1^; 
the remains of ^a young woman washed ashore some years ago. 

llZ TLZ" ^f .*••»*«:" " »° »•" ''J'n^i'y or as to whether 
It was ?. case of shipwreck or suicide, and so to save the County 

:^z ;ir" """-' '" '""' "-' •■> "» "- -'- 

At Boca Ratone, where the beach is wide, 
And the surf breaks fierce on the flowing tide; 
From billowy depths as they toss and roar— 
The form of a woman was washed ashore. 

From billowy depths of unlimited sea- 
How far she had come was a mystery! 
No loved one had followed to whisper her worth- 
To tell of her country— to tell of her birth. 

Alone had she drifted from vacant deep- 
Alone and all silent in Death's blank sleep : 
'Twas nought to her now that the fickle wave 
Had even refused her a watery grave. 

Nor nothing indeed that the shifting sand, 
And the unsought aid of a stranger's hand, 
Had oflPered a haven of rest at last 
On the flowery land where her corse was cast. 



t I 



[ 50 ] 



Whatever her story— how weary or sad, 
How noble and earnest, how awful, how glad: 
It is here at an end and the glancing foam 
Weeps misty tears by her last, long home; 

And the swaying palmettoes that shelter her bed, 
To the winds make moan o'er the unknown dead; 
While travelers hushed by the ocean's boom. 
Hear sermons from God at that lonely tomb. 

DELRAY TO PROSPER IN SPITE OF THE 
DEVIL. 

An application of the art of poetry to the science of developing 
real estate. Delray is a Michigan Colony located 18 miles south 
of Palm Beach, Florida, and, owing to its central location close to 
the Everglades, is rapidly forging ahead. It is the author's 
pleasure to own some of the Earth at Delray, and in develop- 
ing the same, used the following verses as an advertisement: 
The Devil came to me one night in my dreams. 

And addressed me with fire in his eye, 
And asked me why I was frustrating his schemes, 

And assured me his vengeance was nigh. 

With the utmost of meekness I told the old gent. 

He surely had made some mistake; 
I had no intent to do aught he'd resent 

And I could not recall any "break." 

Said he (and his words fairly sizzled with heat) 

"You are helping to prosper my foe; 
"You are building up places where I have no seat 

"And where I'm denied the least show." 

"Denied the least show! Where you have no seat! 

"What mean you great Satan I pray?" 
"I mean," and blue flames seemed to stream from his 
feet, 

"You ARE MAKING A TOWN OF DeLRAV I" 

[ 51 ] 



Hi 



"Me make a town! Don't fool yourself Nick, 

"I'm simply the handmaid of Fate." 
"Too true," said the Devil, "and that makes me sick, 

"And is why I now threaten my hate." 

"So remember, though Hell cannot stop Delray's 
growth, 

"Because it is bound to succeed. 
"Unless You desist (and then followed an oath) 

"I'll get knockers to make you give heed." 

"Then," said I, "if Delray is dead sure of success, 

"I care not a straw for your threat: 
"Let the knocfcers begin with their knocks and their din, 

"I can stand it if they can vou bet." 

With this parting thrust I awoke, and behold! 

Old Nick had quite vanished away; 
But he made good his threat, for his agents are yet 

Knocking vainly fast growing Delray. 

CARRY A HIGH IDEAL. 

Carry a high ideal. Better on crusts to feed 
Than give the tempter heed. Better a humble cot 
That is yours by honest lot. than live in a palace fair 
With turrets high in air. if its foundation stones 
Must cover victims' bones- were purchas-.d with 
others' blood. 

Carry a high ideal. Better to not believe 
Than like hypocrite deceive. Better a heathen's fear. 
If in that you can be sin • re. Better to grope in doubt 
Hoping some pathway out; than in conformist pew 
For a God, you never knew, to chatter a parrot's praise. 



[ 52 ] 



Carry a high ideal. Better a single life 
Than an unhonored wife. Better to stand and lean 
Over an empty chair, dreaming who might be there, 
Than to build a home and throne and on that throne 

of home 
Place one who is not queen— make all that's real unreal. 

Carry a high ideal. Better like martyr wracked 
Than famed for wrongful act. Better to live unknown, 
Unfriended and alone, but with no conscience sting — 
Than be a guilty king by tyranny encrowned — 
Than be the lord renowned of a land where might is 
right. 

Carry a high ideal. Better to fix your eye 

On blue ethereal sky and, ere you reach it, die — 

Than through your lengthened days be content with 

lower gaze. 
Better to even fail in an aim of lofty scale 
Than where the end is less to obtain complete success. 

NATURE'S COMFORTERS. 

Babies, and music, and flowers; — 

Tokens of infinite love — 
Coming like soft summor showers. 

Fresh from the heavens above : 
These, in our moments of sadness, 

Temper our sorrows with joy, 
Fill our lone hearts with their gladness, 

Banish all baneful alloy. 



r 53 ] 



:) 



,i 



Delicate roses and lilies: 

Buttercups, glisteningr with dew 
Dear little daffodowndillies ; 

Violets, hiding from view; 
These prove their Maker's protection 

Promise His provident powers: 
Kindle each finer affection; 

Solace our loneliest hours. 

Touches of ecstatic passion; 

Whispered suggestions of woe; 
Breathings of coming elation; 

Mem'ries of long, long ago: 
These into harmony blended. 

Aided by angelic art, 
Lighten the loads that offended, 

Melt e'en the stoniest heart. 

Innocent, infantile charmers,— 

Flowers and music combined,— 
Smiling faced, dimpled disarmers. 

Ruling both matter and mind: 
Plucked from the meadows of heaven; 

Cooing in melody sweet; 
These are (in tenderness given) 

God's antidote for deceit. 

Babies, and music, and flowers,— 

Tokens of infinite love — 
Coming like soft, summer showers. 

Fresh from the heavens above: 
These, in our moments of sadness. 

Temper our sorrows with joy. 
Fill our lone hearts with their gladness, 

Banish all baneful alloy. 



[541 



A POET'S PLIGHT. 

Thit poem it the recollection of an experience which the author 
once went through near Portland, Oregon. It was undoubtedly a 
puniahment meted out by Providence for a more than ordinarily 
glaring lack of foresight. 

The friends referred to in the last verse are B. E. and J. S. 
Lyster, then of Coos County, Oregon, and formerly of Richmond, 
Quebec, Canada. 

Broke! Broke! Broke! 

Was the lot of a wandering bard; 
Broke! Broke! Broke! 

In a city where nobody cared ; 
Broke! Broke! Broke! 

And in misery, hunger and rags, 
He tried hard to get work, 
The dishonor to shirk 

Of being imprisoned with "vags." 

Hope! Hope! Hope! 

Could he only get out of the town; 
Hope! Hope! Hope! 

He might then escape poverty's frown ; 
Hope! Hope! Hope! 

But how best was the thing to be done ? 
He must certainly walk, 
For his long-hoarded stock 

To the drainings was now nearly run. 

Tramp ! Tramp ! Tramp ! 

Without e'en a change to his back; 
Tramp ! Tramp ! Tramp ! 

O'er the ties of a hard, stony track; 
Tramp ! Tramp ! Tramp ! 

Till his old clothes began to wear out ; 
Then with feet almost bare, 
And with husks for his fare, 

Highest hopes were soon turned into doubt. 

[ 55 ] 



^ 



Tired! Tired! Tired! 

As he counted the tics on his way; 
Tired! Tired! Tired! 

Still he plodded along, day by day; 
Tired! Tired! Tired! 

And as weeks followed others along, 
Was it wonder he sighed 
O'er the grave of his pride? 

Or that plaintive and sad was his song? 

Sleep! Sleep! Sleep! 

Would he ever again know its bliss? 
Sleep! Sleep! Sleep! 

What misdeed had he sown to reap this? 
Sleep! Sleep! Sleep! 

How it mocked through the long dreary night; 
As with straw for a bed, 
In some dark, dingy shed, 

He lay cursing grim fate for his plight. 

Dreams ! Dreams ! Dreams ! 

Of the pleasures he knew in the past; 
Dreams! Dreams! Dreams! 

O'er his troubles a halo they cast; 
Dreams ! Dreams ! Dreams ! 

But alas! they were fitful and brief; 
And but served, while awake, 
Greater contrasts to make; 

Thus adding more fuel to his grief. 

Sick! Sick! Sick! 

For misfortunes ne'er singly do come; 
Sick! Sick! Sick! 

Lying thousands of miles from his home ; 
Sick! Sick! Sick! 

Thickly covered with vermin and rags. 



f 

if. 



[56] 



May the horrors he knew 
Be the lot of but few, 
As he moaned on his pillow of bags. 






Bread! Bread! Bread! 
Once again he must take to the road ; 

Bread' Bread! Bread! 
With fell Hunger his leader and goad; 

Bread! Bread! Bread! 
Bui the people were deaf to his wants — 

He was only a tramp, 

And most likely a scamp- 
So they answered his pleadings with taunts. 

Friends ! Friends ! Friends ! 

After long weeks of tramping had passed; 
Friends ! Friends ! Friends ! 

The poor poet found favor at last; 
Friends ! Friends ! Friends ! 

Wl -1 generously gave him a start ; 
And a song in whose praise. 
To the end of his days. 

He will sing from the depths oi his heart. 

MY FRIEND JACK. 

I had a boon companion, a tried and trusty fr'end; 

Together we had played when we were boys; 
Together had we rambled, nor recked that youth must 
end, 

And with it all its dearest cherished joys. 

His smile was all I wished for to crown a boyish feat ; 

To him I told whatever went amiss : 
Our secret thoughts were common, nor were our hopes 
complete 

Without each being party to their bliss. 

I 57 ] 



But time is ever fleeting; no longer did we play 
The games that had beguiled each childish hour; 

And as we grew to manhood with ev'ry passing day, 
Our boy love gained intensity and power. 

I gloried in his friendship- the purest gift on earth ; 

I felt that he was noble and sincere; 
I proudly called him comrade, and recognized his worth 

In striving by his life my own to steer. 

But best of friends are parted— ambition cut the tie; 

I left him, travelled honors fain to earn: 
And being young and sanguine I scarcely heaved a sigh, 

Anticipating soon a sweet return. 

Three summers slowly faded, and still from him apart. 

My phantom fortune held me far away: 
But mem'ry's tender missives kept warm within my [ 
heart ' 

A corner where that friend had perfect sway. | 

Then hopes grew bright and brighter— good times were 
drawing near: 

Soon back to him and home I would be bound ; 
When suddenly a message made life a prospect drear ; 

The comrade of my boyhood had been drowned. 



w 



I 58] 



I 



TIES MASONIC. 

Shall distress assail a brother 

Whom we've promised to befriend? 
Shall the tear of wife or mother 

Fall and have no other end? 
Shall a cry of hunger reach us 

From the starving child of one, 
Whose thin, grave-blanched lips beseech us 
To recall "the widow's son?" 

Ties Masonic — Ties Masonic — 

These indeed are ties that bind: 
Melancholy vows and holy 
Brother's needs bring to our mind. 

Shall we wait till Pride has broken, 

And Want stretches forth its hand? 
Shall we spoil the friendly token 

With rebuke and reprimand? 
Shall aid go forth as mere duty 

To the victin-.s that insist? 
Scorn such thought for then the beauty 

Of Masonic aid is missed. 

Let us search by stealth for troubles 

Lurking in our brother's home; 
Do not let him make it double 

And a suppliant become. 
When we find it let us measure 

How best to relieve each need : 
And in duty show our pleasure — 

That is Masonry indeed. 



[ 59 ] 



iiJH 



1 



SAILOR'S SONG. 

Land ! land in sight ! See Belle Isle light ! 

Heave ho, my lads, heave ho! 
Eyes wet with joy— ripe lips ahoy 

Heave ho 1 heave ho ! heave ho ! 
One more short day upon the main 
And then we'll be on land again, 

Heave ho I heave ho ! 

The tossing F-a is full of glee, 

Heave ho, .ny lads, heave ho! 
It gives us health, it gives us wealth ; 

Heave ho! heave ho! heave ho! 
But wealth and health and glee galore 
Are only earned for use on shore. 

Heave ho! heave ho! 

We love to brave the flashing wave, 

Heave ho, my lads, heave ho! 
There's nerve and power where tempests lower. 

Heave ho! heave ho! heave ho! 
But who would live a sailor's life 
If sailors had nor home, nor wife? 

Heave ho! heave ho! 

Let all who will their stories tell, 

Heave ho, my lads, heave ho! 
Of bliss in store mid ocean's roar; 

Heave ho! heave ho! heave ho! 
But when sea joys are put to test 
The joy of sighting land is best. 

Heave ho ! heave ho ! 



f i 



[ 60 ] 



TO MY WALKING-STICK. 

An address supposed to be spoken by a dying bard. 

Time honored trophy, friend in life's decline! 
Here list the praises of the tuneful nine. 
Full oft I've tried thee, yet like tempered steel. 
Still found thee faithful or in woe or weal. 
Now ere deserted by the fleeting muse, 
Loud let me sing thee and my zeal excuse. 

Dim in my memory through the distant years ; 
Dim yet distinctly I discern the tears. 
Shed from these eyes when, that I might be great. 
Hard on my shoulders I first knew thy weight;— 
Since a wise father, in all else so mild, 
Thought that to spare the rod must spoil the child. 

Soon older grown, nor bearing malice long; 
With you as mine I thread the giddy throng; 
Swinging with jaunty air my new-found mate, 
Aping the actions of the seeming great ; 
Till led by pride I think each curious stare 
Proves mc resistless to the gazing fair. 

Now undeceived, nor used to useless load, 
Oftei, I've left thee at some friend's abode; 
Where back I trudge still loth to lose the toy. 
Given by a parent to his hopeful boy. 
Given as a keepsake ere its worth is guessed; 
Nor known how truly it would stand time's test. 

Vet soon 1 learn that in the hour of need. 
When, urged by envy or despair or greed, 
Some ruffian chooses to become my foe. 
With you beside me and your knotty woe, 
I need not fear assailant's hungry hand ; — 
Since none dare tempt too far my magic wand. 

I 61 ] 



Often, ah, often in the midst of strife. 
Have you lent succor to my wavering life; 
For aging limbs on you could always count 
As up the crumbling steep fate bade me mount : 
And as the years rolled on with ceaseless tide, 
In darkening pathways you have been my guide. 

Now, since the way fast leads me to life's goal ; 
Those who survive may ease a hovering soul, 
If, when I'm gathered to the life to come; 
And my remains arc laid within the tomb; 
They close beside me with loved care will deign 
To place that oldest friend — my faithful cane. 



1 






TO MY TRUNK, 

Thou dumb companion on my wandering way! 
Kind, mute consoler, when from home I stray! 
For thee, good Trunk, my grateful muse takes wing 
That all with me thy praises true may sing. 
Why do I prize thee? Ask me rather why, 
So long I've prized nor sung thee to the sky. 
Was it not you, who, in my tender years, 
I longed to own yet had no coin but tears ; 
Till, when with age, stray dimes to dollars grew, 
Each one was saved ; then glad exchanged for you ': 
Forget it? No! That happy, happy day, 
Still comes to mind when 'neath thy lid first lay : 
My cherished top, my jackknife, and my ball; 
My marble wealth and boyhood's treasures all ; 
Nor yet must I omit to tell the glee, 
When you were locked, I felt to hold the key. 
Such joys soon pass; ambition interfered; 
Into the world my wayward bark I steered. 
And as I left my father's favored home. 
You — only you — came out with me to roam. 
Afar we sped, my silent trunk and I, 

[ 62 ] 



TiWff!! 



Now here, now there, our fortunes did we try ! 
Each place I went my first thought was of thee. 
In turn for which I had your sympathy. 
When spent and weak with life's unending feud ; 
When tired and faint, I sighed in mournful mood ; 
From out your depths how often have 1 drawn 
Cheer, warmth and memories of the days long gone. 
Close by my bed, wherever I have been, 
All my most private acts, you, Trunk, have seen ; 
Yet unlike other friends, all that you know. 
Sleeps in your shattered frame sacred from foe. 
Dear battered box, no odds how worn or old. 
Deep in my heart an honored spot you hold. 
Be not cast down if other frunks look new 
J will, for service past, still cling to you. 

THE "BFAVER." 

On some rocks near the entrance to Burrard Inlet, B C lies 
all that remains of the "Beaver." the pioneer steamer of Ameri- 
cas Pacific Coast. Naturally enough, considering her age she 
>s not a vessel of very large tonnage; while her machinery and 
accommodation, though a marvel at the time of construction 
are to a modern eye of the very rudest description. Not- 
withstanding these facts, however, the old fossil may very justly 
be termea the fore-runner of civilization in British Columbia, 
for prior to her app arance, the valley of the Fraser and the 
province generally for that matter, was the haunt only of bears 
and of Indians.* 

Beside Trade's brisk and busy way, 

The Beaver, stranded, lies; 
Her storied timbers, ocean's prey, 

Or greedy vandal's prize. 
Her days of usefulness gone by. 

Upon her rocky bed, 
• She starts and strains with creak and sigh, 

To find her glory fled. 

'Since this poem was written the action of a pitiless tide 
has completed the vessel's destruction. Not a vestige now 
remains of what was once "The Beaver." 

[ 63 1 



^Si^^^^^?!5^B5Bc^«?T!^^Sl 






f .:| 



The world moves on with thankless jeer, 

Nor calls to mind the day 
When round Cape Horn, with welcome cheer, 

She steamed her maiden way. 
Pacific's pioiieer — she faced 

To conquer ev'ry "how?" 
And dauntlessly through unknown waste 

Pushed firm her sturdy prow. 

From Golden Gate to Cariboo, 

Each miner owned her fame ; 
And loudly, when she hove in view. 

Sent heavenward her name : 
From far-off climes she brought them news, 

While stored within her hold, 
Were comforts that could re-enthuse 

Tired searchers after gold. 

She came the harbinger of good. 

While virgin forests bowed. 
But what she brought in hopeful mood 

H.s long since proved her shroud. 
Her coming loosed a mighty wheel, 

V^ :idi, slowly turning round. 
Has crushed her hopes with heartless zeal, 

Nor uttered pitying sound. 



a fat 



c. 



But dear old Beaver, such 

Is not alone your due; 
There's naught exists but soon or late 

Will l)c neglected too. 
Reform and change, ail laws derange; 

E'en modes of life and faith, 
Like you and I. come but to die : — 

There's nothing sure save Death. 



[ 64 ] 



THE GOOD OLD TIMES. 

While on my couch at even's close, 

My work and worry o'er, 
I lay me down in brief repose. 

To think of bliss in store; 
My mem'ry flits to other climes, 

And musingly I sigh, 
To live again those good old times — 

Those good old times gone by. 

The pleasures that are mine to-day 

May seem without alloy : 
New friends may be as blithe and gay ; 

New hopes as full of joy ; 
But spite of present merry chimes, 

My thoughts still backward fly, 
To revel with those good old times — 

Those good old times gone by. 

My days were brighter then than now ; 

Ambition seemed more real ; 
111 luck I faced with dauntless brow. 

And scorned where now I kneel. 
But why bewail my lot in rhymes, 

And o'er spilt water cry? 
They've been and gone, those good old times- 

Those good old times gone by. 

And as the years quite tirelessly 

Speed onward while I creep, 
I've ev'ry reason to believe 

They'll .steal my fitful sleep; 
But I'll forgive such petty crimes. 

If, as I wakeful lie, 
I can recall those good old times — 

Those good old times gone by. 

[ 65 ] 



riHiil 



^1 • 



THE SEASONS. 

In high latitude. 

When wintry winds around us blow 

Their chill and icy blast; 
When earth is buried deep in snow, 

And aii'innn's charms are past; 
'Tis then the joys, that most we prize. 

Like summer birds take wing; 
'Tis then, with vaguely longing hearts, 

We sigh for smiling spring. 

Spring comes ! and ev'ry glowing breast. 

Responsive to its power, 
With health and hope, twice doubly blest. 

New blossoms with the flower. 
The earth, aroused from wintry lair, 

Bedecks itself in green, 
And, glad to find its form so fair, 

Smiles forth — a perfect scene. 

But that bright orb, in whom sweet May 

Put all her early trust. 
Now stronger grown, with heated ray 

Lays May beneath the du.st 
While hill and dale, no longer green, 

But yellow — stubbled— dry. 
Can ill repress their envy keen 

Of summer's pljicid sky. 

At last, among the tinted trees. 

With wild and wailing sound. 
The wind once more strips branches bare, 

And strews their leaves around; 
The day again grows short and cool. 

And night— its destined bier— 
Now lingers long with misty shroud. 

To clasp the dying year. 
[66 ] 



IN MEMORIAM SIR MATTHEW BEGBIE 

The firtt Chief Justice of British Columbia, who died much 
lamented, at Victoria, B. C, June 12th, 1894. 

Now weep, Columbia, you have cause to mourn ; 
When he, who late administered your laws, 
Nor meted justice for the crowd's applause ; 

Rude from your courts, despite your tears, is torn. 

His was a life of blamttcss truth and toil ; 

Tempered with mercy in the cause of right; 

Rearing your province to its present might. 
From out a state of chaos and turmoil. 

Had he been lenient — had his hope grown cool ; 

When order seemed subservient to gold ; 

Then lawless men unused to be controlled, 
Would have held sway and let King Riot rule. 

But no ! Unswerving from his purpose firm ; 
He lived to see, resultant from his care, 
Peace reigning proudly o'er a province fair; 

And grateful thousands bless his guardian arm. 

Weep now, Columbia, and in sorrow pray. 
That Justice always o'er thy giant land, 
May never want a champion who will stand 

Faithful as Begbie, who has passed away. 



KEEP CLIMBING. 

Keep climbing! keep climbing Life's boulder strewn 

height. 
Each early seen pinnacle ever in sight ; 
Though obstacles hinder, keep plodding along: 
With "higher, up higher" forever your song. 



[ 67 ] 



! .• 



Keep climbing! keep climbing! be never cast down 
Though men who seem higher in scorn fuhiess frown , 
Take courage, nor falter. Look forward— not back— 
Their methods but prove them upon the wrong track 

Keep climbing! keep climbing! though weary and 

faint ; 
Keep upward and onward without a complaint ; 
Though friends from the pathway in idleness stray, 
Your motto and duty is "Climb while you may." 

Keep climbing ! keep climbing ! nor oflfer to stand, 
Or rest in the shadow of what you have planned ; 
The way may be rugged, the mountain be steep, 
But once on the summit you safely may sleep. 

Keep climbing! keep climbing! make each move- 
ment tell, 
A thing that's worth doing is worth doing well; 
The goal is above you, defeat is below, 
Keep climbing! keep climbing! to victory go. 

LIFE IS LIKE A GAME OF CHECKERS. 

The name "checkers" is a synonym for "draughts" in many 
parts of America. 

Play life's game as men play checkers: 

Watchful always of your chance; 
Do not trust your all to wreckers 

To obtain some quick advance. 
No move ever should be taken 

Till the next is out of doubt; 
Slight success to shame may beckon; 

Petty loss may win the bout. 



f 68 ] 



Courtesy disarms suspicion ; — 

But be careful of its wile; 
Hazard nothing on condition 

Of your foe's continued smile : 
Only one can win the guerdon ; 

Victory follows surest play ; 
Trust no friend to hear your burden : 

Help yourself or lose the day. 

Yes, Life's but a game of checkers: 

Make no move you can't protect ; 
When a ship is in the breakers, 

Wreck and ruin wait neglect. 
Courtesy may lull suspicion 

With its treacherous disguise ; 
But before you yield position : — 

Does position mean the prize? 

THE OVERSOUL. 

(Verses written after reading, with great pleasure, the Essay 
on the Oversoul, by Emerson). 

What a pleasure there's in knowing 
I'm a part of God's great plan; 

What a priv'lege then in doing 
All for Him I truly can. 

What a balm there's in the knowledge 

That what I sincerely do, 
Is His Spirit working in me. 

And, confined, comes bursting through. 

Just to think that through each action 
Born of this — my warring frame, 

He, the great undimmed attraction, 
Speaks, my brothers to reclaim. 



[ 69 ] 



Miaocomr rlxhution test chart 

(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 




A APPLIED IN/MGE 



'653 East Main Street 

rtochester. Ne» York 14609 USA 

(716) 482 -0300 -Phone 

(716) 288 - 5989 - Fax 



'ir i 



That same God I see in mountains, 
In the plains and mighty sea, 

In great rivers, 'mbbling fountains. 
In the flowers,— is seen in me. 

When grim Passion tears my vitals, 

And I fight it to the death; 
'Tis not me, but God that conquers. 

Me it was that gave up breath. 

And whene'er I work in earnest. 
And my deeds with glory shine, 

Thou, Most High, my power adornest ; 
With Thy help I'm made divine. 

Give me then, oh Great Creator, 
Greater power with flesh to cope; 

Let me tear aside its hindrance, 
To give Thee more light, more scope. 

Wondrous theme. Great Soul of Nature, 
In Thy praise I'm filled with song; 

I, a mortal wayward creature, 
Still to Thee, in Thee belong. 

INTOLERATION. 

What makes men contemn the poor negro's black face, 

And hold Indians in detestation; 
What makes them think Mongols quite foreign to grace ? 

It's racial intoleration. 

What first causes strife— then develops to war, 

What scatters abroad desolation; 
What robs our exchequers of treasure in store? 

It's national intoleration. 



[70] 



Why do men of party so arrogant grow, 

When theirs is the administration ; 
What makes them despise their opponents, and blow? 

Political intoleration. 

Why are we divided in classes and caste, 
According to wealth, birth or station; 

And why do the higher, inferiors detest? 
Positional intoleration. 

Why do temp'rance advocates cause so much harm, 

Instead of their kind's elevation; 
What steals from their efforts the pleasure and charm? 

Fanatical intoleration. 

Why are there so many agnostics abroad, 

Who fain would profess adoration ; 
But scarcely know how — so beclouded is God? 

It's bigoted intoleration. 

Ah friends, 'tis a shameful, a lasting disgrace, 

A slur on our civilization. 
To think that in life's short and uncertain race 

We find time for intoleration. 

If "do unto others as we'ld be done by" 
Were really the world's inspiration; 

How quickly it would from intolerance fly 
To practice divine toleration. 



[ 71 J 



f , '!a 



MOORE, BYRON AND SCOTT. 

When an Irishman's dull, enervated and sad; 

When his heart calls for sympathy dear; 
When far from his country he wanders abroad 

On a soil that is foreign and drear ; 
Whose strains can recall to his memory, home. 

And induce him his lot to endure. 
And do honor to Ireland where'er he may roam, 

L'ke the soul-stirring lyrics of Moore? 

When an Englishman, proud of the land of his birth, 

So conceitedly to it refers. 
And receives a reproach for the marvelous dearth 

Of the singers whom true passion stirs ; 
Just notice the light that comes into his eye, 

And illumines his features of iron. 
As he says with accents that reason defy: — 

"You've forgotten our passionate Byron." 

When a Scotchman— the task of his day being done 

Wants a moment of bliss less alloy; 
And has laid aside Burns "Coila's own darling son," 

For diversion and spice in his joy; 
Whose pages are full of the patriot's song,— 

Of the battles that Scotchmen have fought? 
To whose minstrel raptures does genius belong. 

If not to the raptures of Scott. 

To the same decade's brilliance the world owes a debt, 

'Twill take decades of decades to pay; 
For posterity sure will be loth to forget 

The loved names introduced in this lay. 
Three friends and three poets, all equal in fame — 

Though of different races begot; 
Whose genius all nations now proudly proclaim. 

And thank God for Moore, Byron and Scott. 

[ 72] 



H 



WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY. 

Washington's birthday! Hark, hark to the sound 

Of joy universal and glee; 
Washington's birthday! Still \zt it resound, 

With praises and proud jubilee; 
Washington's birthday! Oh why are we thrilled? 

Oh why do we hallow the name? 
Because since that day our hearts have been filled 

With that which puts tyrants to shame. 

Washington's birthday! What funds of delight 

Those words have power to recall ; 
The champion of freedom, of justice and right 

Then came our hearts to enthrall. 
Sing loudly, ye patriots, shout out your 'oy, 

Commemorate liberty's birth ; 
Let cheers of rejoicing — with nought to alloy — 

Awake and encompass the earth. 

May the star-spangled banner he nurtured so well 

Still wave o'er a land for the free; 
May tiie vii tues he practised through our actions tell 

That virtue is freedom's best plea ; 
May Columbia's strand which he loved and revered. 

Still echo with song and applause 
For the hero, who, father of all tha; he reared. 

Gave us freedom and country and laws. 



[73 ] 



.te 



WHF>' WE'RE DEAD AND GONE. 

(At the time t. ^ jingle was written aeroplanes were unknown, 
and the author prophesied wiser than he knew when he wrr*e 
the last rerse.) 

Wondrous things may come to pass, 

When we're dead and gone. 
Nothing ancient can surpass, 

When we're dead and gone; 
Stars in heaven may collide, 
And the sun with rapid stride 
May o'ertake the moon, his bride. 

When we're dead and gone. 

Gravitation's law may burst, 
iWhen we're dead and gone. 
Which of mishaps is the worst, 

When we're dead and gone. 
Mortals from this world would fall. 
Into night and chaos sprawl, 
Where grim darkness would appal, 

When we're dead and gone. 

Earth its bowels may unfold. 

When we're dead and gone, 
And yield treasures yet u;:told, 

When we're dead and gone; 
With eruptions mounts may quake, 
Rivers o'er their banks may break, 
Oceans may their beds forsake. 

When we're dead and gone. 

Men through earth may make a breach. 

When we're dead and gone. 
The Antipodes to reach, 

When we're dead and gone: 



[ 74] 



They in railway cars may roll 
Underground from pole to pole, 
Paying but a trifling toll, 
When we're dead and gone. 

Th'electric source for having found, 

When we're dead and gone. 
Inventors great may be renowned. 

When we're dead and gone; 

And through its improved ray. 

Night may chase its shades away. 

And they'll live in endless day. 

When we're dead and gone. 

P'rhaps we may not need our wings. 

When we're dead and gone; 
Or such like ethereal things. 
When we're dead and gone. 
Golden stairs to heaven may rise. 
Not in song as you'd surmise, 
But which angels won't despise. 
When we're dead and gone. 

People in machines may fly, 

When we're dead and gone; 
Scaling heights of azure sky. 
When we're dead and gone. 
O'er the clouds they'll ride supreme, 
And what now does monstrous seem, 
May have faded to a dream, 
When we're dead and gone. 



[ 75 ] 



t •;' 



THE ROSCOE CLUB. 

When the author was about 19 years of age. three of his 
most intimate Canadian friends formed with him the nucleus of 
a literary society. Chancing on their second or third evening 
to become interested in Washington Irving's sketch book, attention 
was fixed on his delightful little notice of Wm. Roscoe. Liver- 
pool s literary star. The high character and attainments of that 
gentleman, as eulogized by Irving, seemed almost the personifi- 
cation of the avowed objects of the little circle, and the company 
forthwith dubbed itself the Roscoe Club, in honor of him. 

On each happy Tuesday night, 

When the moon is shining bright. 
And the stars within the firmament do glow; 

We convene the favored four. 

And with literary lore. 
We begtiile the hours away in Club Roscoe. 

Though the rain in torrent falls. 
And the lightning's flash appals; 

Thotigh old Boreas a hurricane doth blow; 
Still we gather 'round the board. 
On which choicest books are stored. 

And we spend the evening in our Club Roscoe. 

When the leaves all turning red. 

And the ripened fruit o'erhead, 
Both proclaim that Autumn's bliss we soon shall know ; 

Though our friends stroll up the road,— 

Arm in arm quite d !a mode— 
We're content to pass our time in Club Roscoe. 

When the nights grow cold and long. 

And the winds blow fierce and strong. 
And the ground is hard and crisp with ice and snow ; 

We draw near the glowing grate, 

And with heart ind voice elate. 
We discuss the future of our Club Rosco . 



[ 76] 



When the Spring in garments green 
Changes fast the wintry scene. 

And to ev'ry living thing its gifts bestow: 
With new life and vigor filled, 
And as critics better skilled, 

Are the members of that dear old Club Roscoe. 

Though its roll contains but few, 

Yet each heart is stout and true, 
Which in after years the world will surely know ; 

And if time works all things well, 

As a prophet I foretell,— 
Famous far will be our little Club Roscoe. 



A COMPOSITION. 



Roscoe Club, the origin and objects of which have just been 
mentmned. on one occasion in the year 1888 demanded essays 
from Its members upon the various phases of government in 
vogue rlurmg tlje present age. The Czar or absolute monarchy was 
the particular kind that fell to the author's lot. In the absence 
of any stat.stici.] knowledge upon the subject, this "Composition." 
which IS self-explanatory, was utilized to fill up the gap. 

Dear friends, 'twas my duty to write out to-nigljt. 
An essay of length on the Czar and his might ; 
And had I had power to do what I ought, 
An essay no doubt I to you would have brought ; 
But the subject you see had so much in its train, 
All my efforts to grasp it. I found were in vain ; 
So you'll please be content if what little I tell, 
Vou have known long ago perhaps perfectly well • 
And as men have classed all "stale chestnuts" with crime 
To make it seem new, I will tell it in rhyme. 

The Czar, we are told in the books used at school, 
is a monarch who governs with absolute rule; 
Not like our good queen at the beck and the call 
Of a Gladstone, a Churchil 



Bright or a Sal. 



[ V ] 



1 




* 



But a king at whose bidding men die at the stake; 
One word from whose lips can make all Europe quake 
He has but to look, and faint hearts cease to beat ; 
He wills, and ill Russia must cringe at his feet ; 
For justice his subjects appeal to the throne. 
It rests on his word and his judgment alone. 

But despite all his power, deny it who can, 

This tyrant of millions is only a man ; 

And as such, you 'oubtless have seen in the papers. 

How much he's harassed by those nihi'=3t capers; 

And although Fortune's child, he is in constant d;ead. 

Lest the momenf deprive him of sceptre and head. 

With thi;, my dear friends, I'm afraid I must end,— 

No more to my verse has my knowledge to lend; 

But mayhap if ever I travel to Moscow, 

I'll look up the Czar ^'or the good of ihe Roscoe. 

♦Salisbury. 

BOSKY DELL. 

While bending o'er my daily toil, 

Oppressed by city heat; 
And breathing in the dusty soil 

Arising from the street; 

Though be. -ng with resigned fate 

The noise of city life; 
^n truth, at times, I'd fain vacate 

lis bustle and its strife. 



Before -.ny eye bright visions pass 
Of fields and meadows green. 

Of yellow corn and waving grass, 
And humble rustic scene; 



[ 78 ] 



Till thoughts of brooks and shady nooks 

Soon o'er me cast a spdl, 
And I recall the beauties jil, 

Of dear old Bosky Dell. 

There stands the cottage, small and trim, 
Beside a lordly pine, 

That stretches o'er the roof a limb- 
Protection's surest sign. 

Its walls i.re decked with ivy green; 

And roses sweet to smell, 
Within the da.': rich foliage 

Luxuriantly dwell. 

A purling brook some yards away, 
O'er rocks glides rippling on; 

And sings its sad incessant lay 
From break of dawn to dawn. 

No jarrine noise the silence cleaves; 

All sounds are hushed and still ; 
The sighing wind, the rustling leaves, 

The music of the rill. 

Save that at times fro - leafy bower. 
High up some neighb'ring tree, 

The birds such floods of music shower, 
The grove is drenched with glee. 

Or when from distant meadow land, 

Some petted lambkin': bleat 
Is heard as 'round its sober dam 

It skips wuh tireless feet. 



[ 7Q ] 



Some sweet breathed kirie, 'iicath friendly shadr. 

In lazy languor lie, 
With munching mouth, and shaking head, 

And dreamy half-shut eye. 

But as this scene before me lies 

In panoramic view, 
Faint twinkling vapors slow arise, 

And twilight does ensue. 

Then O! to see the grandeur now 

That spreads itself around: 
The moon from o'er a mountain brow 

With silver tints the ground; 

The stars within her train appear, 

And soon the ,'ault of night 
Is sprinkled o'er with jewels clear 

And diamonds sparkling bright. 

A still and awful silence takes 

Possession of the air; 
fill trees, and fields, and birds .am all 

In Nature's solemn c, re. 



. -I 



O ! fain I would some more relate 
Upon this pleasing theme, 

But here I woke, and to my fate, 
Found Bosky Dell a dream. 



I ■* ■ 'I 



[ 80] 



! 



( 



ODE TO \ SKULL. 

Kvery poet has patron*. The first person to patronize and 
raonrage the huyish efforts of the author in the art of rhyming 
was .Mr. J. U. Forbes, at that time of Montreal, hut -low a 
rrsiileiit of I't. Levi, Qxiv. This Keiitli-man was a pas.>ionate 
.iilniirer of poetry, and could ipiote pai«sages from fturns. 
Byron or Shakespeare hy the hour. Seeing some of the author's 
earliest elftisions \>y chance one day, instead of hni.lmg them up 
to the ridicide that he shamefacedly expected. Mi , urbes, imme- 
diately took an interest in his scribblinus, praised them up sky 
high, and as a teSi of the author's powers proposed that he 
imagine himself in a grave-yard with a xkull that he had picked 
up from curiosity in his hand. Th train of thought to which 
such an incident happened to give he desired him to put in 

rhyme, and, being his employer, as an .ncentive he kindly allowed 
what spare time he could afford during the remainder of the day 
for that purpose. Graieful for the well-meant f.attery, and 
anxious to keep up his new reputation, by nightfall the author 
managed to have this concoction ready for his employer's amused 
perusal. It hat several very palpable faults, but the author thinks 
the public may be interested in it aa a production of his 1 6th year. 

Alas! Alas! how sad I feel 

When on this skull I gaze ; 
For 'neath it"^ shell a something real 

Did dwell in brighter days, 
And thought or dreamed of future life 

Upon this world of sorrow, 
And battled with its sins and strife, 

In hopes of peace to-morrow. 

Perhaps ambition fdled each vein 

Which through this brain did flow, 
And helped great schemes of future gain 

To start, and then to grow ; 
Maybe the wisest plans e'er made 

Took root within this head. 
And would have been before us laid, 

Had death not come instead. 



I 



[81 ] 



J: I 



t ■' 



Perhaps this may have been the skull 

Of someone of renown, 
Whose works of genius now are know • 

To Earth's remotest town; 
Or p'raps some conscience-striclcen wretch 

Could have no solace here, 
And so mid suicidal itch 

Did end his life in fear. 

Perhaps, again, this once has been 

The head of some great wit. 
Whose faculties were ever keen 

To make some happy hit. 
Or was some idiotic mind 

Once hid beneath this shell. 
That to good sense was ever blind, 

Whatever else befell? 

Perhaps some farmer might this claim, 

If he were now on earth. 
Whose easy-going, honest aim, 

If known, might prove of worth; 
Or, may be, it did once belong 

To some unlucky devil, 
Who barely knew 'twixt right and wrong, 

But died mid maddest revel. 

Perhaps some sailor brave and bold. 

With jolly looks, and gay, 
Might once beneath this head have rolled 

Across the watery way ; 
Or p'raps some soldier fighting hard. 

Away from home and land, 
Had this from off his shoulders struck 

By some combatant's hand. 



,s .,» 



[82] 



Perhaps it once encovered one 

Who, struggling for his right, 
Was killed before his work was done 

By main or money might; 
Perhaps some coward base and mean 

(For all are base who cower) 
Might claim this cranium for his own, 

If heav'n would give him power. 

Maybe an honest pauper 

Did use this empty head. 
In pondering how, and when, and where. 

He'd get a crust of bread. 
Or p'raps it once was held erect 

By some vain, haughty man. 
Who cared not whom he crushed direct 

Beneath his selfish ban. 

In fact, with truth 'twere hard to guess 

To whom this skull belonged; 
But then, for that I care not less, 

Nor would I see it wronged. 
The chances are it once did crown 

Some worthy, manly frame. 
Who cared not for a world's renown 

While he had his good name. 



MOTHER. 

Written in the author's 17th year in honor of one who had 
been called away three years after his birth. 

Dearest mother, whither art thou? 

Why have I been left alone? 
Why by thee was I forsaken, 

Ere thy worth was barely known? 



[ 83 ] 



_| 



if !■£ 



-1 



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Mother— darling, angel mother! 

Can I never see you more? 
Have you gone from me forever, 

To that dark eternal shore? 

Will you not at my entreaty 
Once again to earth return? 

Why, oh why, I pray thee, mother. 
Am I left thy loss to mourn? 

How I've longed to have your guidance, 

None but God above can tell; 
Just one look of kindness from you, 
i Just to know you wish me well. 

When with grief and sorrow stricken, 
Then oh how I've yearned for thee !* 

That I might confide my troubles 
And receive your sympathy. 

And to think, I don't remember 
Even how you used to smile. 

Or how you with love maternal 
Did my baby hours beguile. 

Mother— dearest, darling mother! 

How thy name alone can thrill! 
Oh, that some divine inspirer, 

Would unfold to me thy will. 

TO THEE, OH GOD! 

(A Prayer) 

To Thee, oh God! in my despair 
I pen this earnest heart-made prayer 

In hopes that Thou, who art divine, 
Wilt cleanse my soul and make it thine. 
[ 84 1 



I 



I know I am not worth Thy thought, 
My very frame with sin is fraught : 

But still, because Thy work I am. 
For self-made wounds provide a balm. 

Give me a salve that sure will heal 
My broken spirit and my will. 

To Passion, God, I am a slave; 
A shield from it I fairly crave. 

Thou know'st my weakness and canst see 
The cure Thou shouldst prescribe for me. 

To curb myself in vain I've tried, — 
My loathed desire won't be denied. 

So now to Thee I humbly kneel, 

And pen the words Thou know'st I feel. 

In pity, God, look down and be 
A comforter and strength to me. 

Help me once more to raise my head 
In triumph o'er my passions dead. 

And then, oh God, through all my days, 
My very life shall sing thy praise. 



A PRAYER. 

Thy greatness, God, I cannot know, 

I cannot guess Thy powers; 
But ev'ry earnest thought must show 
How I revere Thy works below 
Upon this world of ours. 

r 85 ] 




If all omnipotent Thou art, 

As Nature seems to say; 
Oh, put the truth into my heart, 
And let me know I am a part 

Worth more to Thee than clay. 

And if, oh God, Thou art supreme, 

And rulest all that's here; 
May I be taught to do, not dream, 
Pray make me ever what I seem. 
And keep my soul sincere. 

Amen. 



MISERY. 

Blow on, ye northern winds, blow on, 
Let nothing cause your rage to stay; 

If mortals totter and look wan. 
What matters it?— they are but clay. 

Make fiercer still your icy blast 
In fury though it never end; 

An angry sky with black o'ercast 
To mis'ry not a jot can lend. 

Shine on, in mock'ry, Sun, shine on. 
Your blazing heat around us spread; 

From darkest night bring forth the dawn, 
Or raise to life the winter's dead. 

Though mighty forests you may burn ; 

Or cause deep rivers to run dry: 
If mortals but in sorrow mourn. 

Despite thy power they'll weep or— die. 



[86] 






A SONG FOR APPRENTICE ACCOUNTANTS. 

If you would accounting achieve— 

Keep books sans reproach, flaw or doubt 
You must debit whate'er you recei^/e, 

And credit whatever goes out. 
Perchance it is "goods" that goes out, 

And Smith, Brown or Jones that comes in; 
But see that you change things about 

If "goods" and not "custom" you win. 

Since to share in a bookkeeper's sweets- 
To shun a bad bookkeeper's woe: 

You must debit your daily receipts 
And credit with care your outgo. 

When it's "goods" or "--ash" you obtain. 

Charge up such accounts what you get; 
While if these go out, it is plain, 

You charge who gets into your debt. 
For whatever comes in you receive, 

Though perhaps it's a debtor's account; 
And whatever goes out— pray believe— 

Has a credit somewhere that amount. 

So to shun a bad bookkeeper's woe— 
To share a good bookkeeper's sweets; 

You must credit with care your outgo, 
And debit your daily receipts. 

But if into debt you should go: 

For his trust you must credit your friend; 
And when you pay up what you owe; 

Credit "cash" with all money you spend; 
That is: he who pays you the gold. 

Or gives you the goods on account, 
Should be credited what he has sold 

Or has paid to the total amount. 

[ 87 ] 



1 



1 



For remember, though life has its sweets 
They're embittered with chagrin and woe, 

Till you debit your daily receipts, 
And credit with care your outgo. 

A SPEECH. 

Supposed to be made at the opening of Lindsay Collegiate 
Institute, January 2Sth, 1889. It was published at the time in 
the Lindsay "Victoria Warder," a local newspaper, and in that 
way served its purpose. 

I do not wish with long oration, 
And weighty tedious demonstration, 
To make you, by your yawns, betray 
Fatigue, on this our natal day; 
Nor do I, with a pompous style. 
Intend to cause an inward smile; 
For by your looks and silent nudges, 
I fear, alas! you're able judges; 
So, if you've no applause to spare. 
Pray with my feeble efforts bear. 
Just listen, and appear at ease — 
For know, kind friends, I wish to please. 

There was a time in ages past 
When learning was a stigma cast 
By people, on those favored few, 
Wht, y<;eking wisdom, waded th jugh 
The musty depths of learned lore 
That sages wrote in books of yore; 
But later on, as time progressed. 
And evolution ne'er at rest 
Caused civ'lization to advance. 
And gave the vulgar crowd a chance 
To taste the sweets in learning's train, 
And showed the heights they might attain, 
A wondious change at length took place; 
And those, who once with sneering face 
[ 88] 



Had laughed to scorn the few who tried 
To pluck the fruit to fools denied, 
Became as eager to devise 
A means by which they too might rise; 
Content no longer to be fools, 
They built them colleges and schools 
Wherein their oflF-spring might be taught 
The truths which they themselves had not. 

But still they scarce conceived their worth; 

Of knowledge yet there was a dearth. 

Their colleges were far from good; 

The schools they built were plain and rude ; 

They let them fall into decay, — 

Nor raised a hand Time's rage to stay — 

Till plaster from the ceilings fell : 

The walls by cracks their age could tell ; 

And windows wi..( their lights half gone 

Had used up copies fastened on ; 

Displaying both the pupil's drift 

And parents' onomic thrift; 

And he who failed to be of use 

In other callings more abstruse 

Was straightway hired with task assigned 

To rear and train the youthful mind. 

Yet lo! with ne'er despairing tread 

Still onward evolution sped : 

And now, to-day, with conscious pride 

We point you to its wondrous stride; 

An ample proof, this building stands. 

The v/ork of well skilled artists' hands; 

No proven comfort does it lack, 

A model school from front to back;— 

A palace 'tis— to call it less 

We would the law oi truth transgress. 



[ 89 ] 



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Each class-room like a parlor made 
Incites our youth to mount that grade— 

(So rough and steep as sages claim) 

Which leads to knowledge and to fame. 

The school in which w- now are met 
For building may you ne'er regret; 
Though it has been a heavy strain, 
And has to many seemed a bane, 
Yet here it stands a monument 
Of all the time and means you've spent. 
Its pupils all and each your debtor 
Confess they wish for nothing bect.rr. 

And now, proved frie .ds of education. 
Before I close this dedication: 
For all your previous thoughtful aid 
To make this building as 'f-s made; 
And also here I beg to mention 
For present patient, kind attention. 
Accept my thanks, and those to boot 
Of Lindsay Collegiate Institute. 



I 1' 



HOW JOHN TOD CONQUERED THE SHU- 

SHWAPS. 

A true tale of British Columbia. 

John Tod was a furtrader fearless and bold, 

As furtraders always should be; 
But of all brave furtraders of whom we p.re told, 

The bravest and boldest was he. 
In years long gone by, John had lived in the East ; 

And from that far clime had he come, 
Over billow and prairie, on boat and on beast. 

To make new Columbia his home. 



[90] 



s 



I 

I 



He came from the East to the wild, woolly West; 

When its mountainous wastes wei - untrod; 
That he might with adventure lend life a new zest, 

And roam oer the unbroken sod. 
And there in a fori on a well-chosen site. 

Where the Thompson and Frazer combined;* 
John's fame spread abroad, among Indian and white, 

As a giant in body and mind. 

For John was no pigmy. Six feet from the earth 
His head sat in archest content, 

O'er a pair of broad shoulders of such solid worth 
They looked as though rough-hewn from flint. 

His body was lanky, and gaunt was his cheek- 
He was no Apollo, 'tis true; 

Bdt a stronger or lither in vain might you seek : 
John Tod found his equa' 'n few. 

Now about Thompson post lived six nations of braves. 

And no carpet warriors were they; 
From the Coast to the Rockies were hundreds of graves 

Where silent their enemies lay. 
The Shushwaps were terror? to white man and red ; 

No coward dared halt in their path ; 
But look at them crossways and hungry for blood. 

The Shushwaps would rise in their wrath. 

But Tod was a trader, and though hemmed around. 

With but four fellow whites at his side; 
What cared he for Shushwaps? He'd hold to his 
ground. 

And would knuckle to none though he died. 
So there in their midst he gave trinkets for furs ; 

And settled disputes as he chose; 
As king of the forest he soon won his spurs ; 

And respect, bocli from friends and from foes. 

•Now the town of Kamloops, B. C. 

[ 91 ] 



]W 




* > ' ■ 


^ ■ t 


» 


* 




But it happened at last that the Shushwaps grew tired 

At his bold usurpation of power: 
This Tod must be crushed and his countrymen hushed. 

Though the hravens above them should lower. 
So they plan and they plot and they scheme and they 
threat 

Till at length comes an opportune chance; 
They will murder the band when 'vith packtrain in hand, 

No strong guarded fort give^ defense. 





Through the region around goes the message of war 

On Tod and his chivalrous four; 
And savage, gather from near and from far, 

To dip thtir hands deep in his gore. 
But little t'aey know of the men they oppose, 

In their savage desire for their blood 
They wist not the wiles of their civilized foes,— 

And for once lack of knowledge proved good. 

At a small level plain on the banks of the stream. 

Surrounded by brushwood and trees; 
rhey gather in ambush to perfect their scheme. 

And wait for the prey at their ease. 
To wait for the prey that they think is their own; 

For how can they miss such a prize? 
Their number is scores to their enemies' one : — 

This day, sure, the furtrader dies. 

But Tod was as wary and wily as brave ; 

His years at the front were not lost ; 
There were lives in his keeping no hazard could save, 

If in danger he heedlessly tost. 
So warned of the hundreds who ambush his way 

And knowing retreat was in vain ; 
And that wit and not muscle must carry the day : 

He thought of a dareaevil plan. 

[92] 



I'k'i 



From a medicine chest, which he long had possessed. 

He first took a stock of vaccine; 
Which with studious care he concealc ' in his breast. 

Smiling grimly while tucking it in. 
To the men of his band he next issued command, 

That should fortune go hard with their chief, 
They must leave hhn to fate and beat hasty retreat, 

In hopes of thus gaining relief. 

Then oflF in the van on his charger he rode, 

Till the field of commotion was near; 
Where, beckoning the troop to remain in the wood 

And watch till his fate was made clear. 
He rose in his stirrups, put spurs to his steed, 

And alone from the well-hidden spot. 
With his armb high in air at a neck breaking speed 

He flew o'er the plain like a shot. 

Surprised at such daring the Indians rush out. 

Their bloodthirsty weapons in hand; 
Yet faltered to shoot as their foe faced about 

And raced near the place where they stand. 
So oblivious he seemed of his sentence to die : 

He surely was dreaming or mad; 
Or wp.s he inspired by the Spirits on high? 

Was it skill from above he displayed? 

Would they shoot? Hardly yet. Curiosity goads, 

To see what the man will do next ; 
So they wait and they watch and they watch and they 
wait 

Still growing more greatly perplexed. 
For now as he rushes like wind o'er the plain 

Tod adds lo his tactics absurd. 
By groaning and moaning again and again. 

Though uttering never a word. 



[ 93 ] 



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Throwing guns to the ground they gather around, 

Their features grown ghastly with fear: 
The death denting plot and the feud are forgot — 

What news does their en^ y wear? 
They beg him to speak as b junds o'er the mead. 

What harm does his sorrow portend? 
Has Scomalt* grown angry? they anxiously plead; 

Is she bringing the world to an end? 

Now Tod is your chance. If yc • falter you fail. 
The ( itical moment has come, 
"'lid your ruse be suspected you'll honestly wail, 
it s a case of succeed or succumb. 
He wneels to the left and he wheels to the right; 

Then, reining his charger with care; 
Through his teeth in ^<oarse accents of well-assumed 
fright, 
He hisses: "The smallpox! Beware!" 

"The <mallpox" they echo in direst dismay; 

"The smallpox" rings out to the sky. 
No wonder the savages tremble and pray; 

No wonder they stagger and sigh. 
Scarce .: decade has flown since by smallpox alone, 

Near i alf of their tribe was laid low; 
Nor cared it for prowess with dagger or gun, — 

The brave with the cowards must go. 

"The smallpox! The smallpox!" aloud they repeat; 

And the forest sends back the sad cry. 
"Is there othing to stop the fell scourge" they entreat, 

Are we fated to fester and die?" 
"Not so," said our hero with well-feigned concern, 

"I came here to save you" he said; 
"Let the bravest among you come forth in c'ue turn. 



'And I'll free 



from danger and dread." 



•Scomalt, a female deity, and the ruler of Hea' en in the 
Shushwap religion. 

[94] 



A, Hn t ^"""'""^'^ «"d penknife in hand. 
As though among brothers and friends 
he scraped the right arms of the chiefs of'th. k ^ 
And with vaccine thoir whoI^.L tfen * ^"'' 

T T .'• ""f ^ '^ '^'' '^^ »°°k specia care 
To d,^h., knife deep in the skin. 
Of the ch.efs whom he knew had had more than their 

In the plot'to kill him and his kin. 

Completely outwitted, appeased, and disarmed. 
The savages do as they're bid; 

But"n'r!5 '*? '^' '"^^'^'^^ unharmed; 
But paid him for all that he did 

That they ve found a dear friend in their foe- 
Who .n ,o.te of their warlike and savage array 
Had ventured to save them from woe. 

When each had been doctored. John chuckled in glee- 
Such precaution was doubly a cure - ' 

Whifetl" "ii °' '•"^"P"'' '""'''^ --«day be free 
Th!! K t ? " *''*"■ '°'' '''"'' ^ou\6 ensure 
Then back he returned to his followers' fold 

While from that day to this is the true story told - 
How Tod Fought his Foes w.th Vaccine 

HUMANITY-A TOAST. 

Here'.s to humanity! Let us drink deep • 
Here s to its progress in waking and sle^p 
Drink to Its weakness, that we may recafl 
A minute! A second! And that may be all • 
Its uni s have perished in midst of the thought 
But still prosper tasks that the race has befot 

{ 95 ] 



M 



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f' 



Drink to humanity! Why should we not? 
Look at the wonders e'en frailty wrought: 
See the white peaks of Parnassus we've scaled! 
See the far oceans our travelers have sailed! 
Think of the thunderbolts proving our worth, 
Bearing n.en's thoughts to the ends of the earth. 

Drink to humanity! See it at work! 
Where is there task that the whole race will shirk ? 
Look at the mountains of rock it has bored! 
Look at the heavens its bird-men have soared! 
Tunnelling rivers— bridging the deep- 
Sowing,— and sowing for others to reap. 

Drink to humanity! Loudly proclaim 
It and Divinity one and the same: 
Nothing can daunt it— no barrier restrain; 
Where nature resists, its resistance is vain: 
We once had our limits, but that time is gone; 
The universe wakes to Hum.\nity's dawn. 

TO MY SWEETHEART PLUS 

I loved you my darling— when first I beheld you; 

Your daintiness won me ere yet 1 had wooed: 
Your smile seemed like heaven and so surely thrilled me 

That soon I the only course open pursued. 

I loved you my darling— when later you promised 
That you and your charms would forever be mine: 

And in the bright hope of a future so glowing: 
What wonder I thought you a creature divine? 

I loved you my darling— when tightly I pressed you. 
Close, close to my bosom a newly made bride; 

And fonder, still fonder I loved and caressed you 
As daily you fashioned your place by my side. 

[ 96 ] 



m 



But dearer, true helpmeet, each season has left you ; 

Though pangs of dread childbirth have scored your 
fair brow : 
Those furrows to me that much closer have cleft you — 

// ever I loved you my darling 'tis now. 

IN HONOR OF DR. JOHN GORRIE 

(,Of Apalachicola, Fla., who invented Artificial Ice, in the Year 

1845) 

Give him a niche in the temple of Fame 
Give him his place and enhallow his name ! 
He, who in love for his suffering kind, 
Lent them the use of his wonderful mind : 
Pointed the way by unheard of device 
To make in the Tropics the purest of Ice. 

Give him a niche ! May his name never die ! 
Build him a monument stately and high. 
Who, in the ages, has equalled his thought? 
VVho for his fellows such solace has brought? 
Think of the troubles his skill has allayed ! 
Think of the inroads on pain he has made. 

Give him a niche and enshrine it with flowers ! 
Honor the man with divinity's powers ! 
He who, no matter how sultry the day, 
Drove from damp foreheads the fever away: 
Pay quick a tribute that nobody shuns, 
To GORRIE — greatest of Florida's sons. 



TALLAHASSEE 

On the red hill , of o'd Leon Tallahassee sits as queen, 
Winning subjects of whoever comes her guest; 

From her heights in all directions such a royal view is 
seen 
That we wonder was there ever place so blest. 

[97] 






On the streets the bearded liveoaks stretch around their 
hoary arms 
Blending beauty with the shadows that they throw • 
And the sun forever shining helps to spread his tropic 
charms 

As beneath the shady boughs we come and go. 

Roses white and red and crimson and the pink crepe 
myrtle bloom 
Scatter round each home the loveliest of hues- 
While magnolias and mimosas fill the air with 'their 
perfume 

Till the luxury of living cures the blues. 

Storied hills and fertile valleys vie to make one's life 
worth while 
And we saunter forth as student or as sage • 
Here are fields of corn and cotton reaching out for 
many a mile- 
Over there Wakulla fumes in smouldering rage. 

Here pecan and fig trees blossom, there swing stalks of 
sugar cane: 
Pomegranates add their lustre where they may • 
And the a.r we breathe is laden with a conquest' over 
pam, 

And an atmosphere of honor gilds the day. 

This is where the Prince lies buried-he who sought for 
quiet spot 

In the evening of his days to flee the world ■ 
Just bes.de him sleep the soldiers who for us and glory 
fought, * -^ 

And who died beneath the Southland's flag unfurled. 



f 1 : 



[ 98 ] 



Yonder crest is where the chieftain after whom the 
Town is named 
And the braves he led to battle used to dwell ; 
While surrounding lies the County that, in justice surely, 
claimed 
A name that youth eternal would compel. 

On the red hills of old Leon Tallahassee sits as queen, 
Winning subjects of whoever comes her guest; 

The Capital of Florida she reigns by merit's sheen : 
And her poet pays his tribute with the rest. 

RUMINATIONS BY THE SIDE OF A FLORIDA 
SHELL MOUND 

At ous places along the East Coast of Florida and occasion- 
ally I. (he interior are to be found mounds, mostly composed of 
shells laid in layers, but in which have been found fish and other 
bones, weapons, cooking utensils, and other articles that an anti- 
quarian might use to great purpose in weaving a most intelligible 
story of primeval America. In one of these mounds located at 
New Smyrna has been exposed the remains of a fort constructed 
of Coquina rock that may be the one constructed by Columbus on 
his second voyage to America in 1505. In that event Anthro- 
pologists may be able to most correctly conjecture the age of the 
various mounds, as at least six feet of shell covered the New 
Smyrna fort, and the stone work in its turn is resting on shell, 
showing that a mound had existed there before the fort was 
projected, and had been primarily selected owing to its height 
and commanding position for the purposes of fortification. The 
fact that the ruins of the fort were actually covered by s oil 
would seem to prove that some of the mound builders were in 
existence after the time of Columbus. 

Hail ! wondrous preacher from the ages past ! 
Reminding mortals of their little span ;— 
AflFc ling glimpses of the world's great plan, 

Wherein by layers of shell, each race is classed. 

Shell, in deep layers with earthy streaks between, 
Whose blank oblivion wiped the last race out, 
And made succeeding races even doubt 

There had been other races uii ihe scene. 

f 99 ] 



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Oh, what a fund of human love and lore 
Is here suggested by your crumbling mound,— 
Where rude utensils, that within are found, 

Describe the makers who have gone before. 

Unlike Egyptian Pyramids that show 
Completion in one cycle by design, 
Your heights without design have' lain supine, 

And taken many centuries to grow. 

Who laid your base within old Mother Earth 

Entirely reckless of a super pile? 

Who scoured the beach for many a weary mile 
To bnng the quota that still proves of worth? 

Was he a Merman or was he a Shade? 

A Lilliputian or a Brobdignag? 

Did lost Atlantis on some towering crag 
Protect him till a landing here was made? 

Was he a mariner from Europe tost? 

Or did his ancestors from Asia spring? 

And by migrations from the far north bring 
His household gods to warm Floridian Coast? 

Was he a scion of the Aztec race? 

Was he of peaceful or of warlike mould? 

Came he like later Spaniard searching gold, 
Or was he guided by the fleeting chase ? 

Was there a Washington in that far time? 

Or did he need a Lincoln to preside? 

Did he have Caesars triumphing in pride 
O'er subjugated nations, steeped in crime? 



fyl 



f 100 ] 



-.^l 



But why so cunous? Is it not in line 
That he has been here and has left his mark - 
See where burnt shell and ashes prove the Snark 

Promethean, his. that gave him power divine! ^^ 

He left no Homer to enshrine his joy; 

But here we read of him and know his place. 

These are h.s records where within we trace 
As valued information as we have of Troy 

But e'en such records, sacred tho' they are 
The present age seeks quickly to efface,' 
A-H for commercial ends, in great disgrace 

Wn. scatter on the highways near and far 

Centuries of centuries perhaps have passed 
Since by your builders you began to rise: 
But now profanely and before our eyes 

We see you leveled as we stand aghast ' 

Hold! Ruthless Vandals! Let the love of fame 

^Z'\r: '"""^•°" ^"^ ^°- «-ed 
AmLT, ,'■'' ^''^'^''' P'-^y ^'ve heed 
And scatheless keep each mound from local claim. 

Can petty road, worn out ere yet n place 

Be compensation for so great a loss? 

inese are the Vedahe fh^' «> 
Wh»,«;„ A • ^^^^"^ ^"o oergrown w th moss 
Wherem Amenca its youth may trace. 

If that same study that Pompeii demands 

Who^tTs r^dir" ttlr tTf' 
What trophies tickle faft^^l^tS ^ht^Sl ^^""^ '" 
Hail! frosted preacher of the ages sped < 

I give you audience and your ruins scan; 



BACHELOR'S HALL— A SONG. 

Greatest poets have sung with a rapturous swell, 

Of their country, their home, or their friends; 
They've detailed to their readers each ecstatic spell 

That on soniL dark-eyed maiden depends. 
But there's one thing on which they have silently gazed, 

And have mentioned it never at all ; 
And a theme without doubt they ought most to have 
praised 

Is "The pleasures of Bachelor's Hall." 



't 



1 1 



Oh, the pleasures of Bachelor's Hall; 

Oh, the pleasures bi Bachelor's Hall ; 

A theme without doubt that ought most to be praised 

Is the pleasures of Bachelor's Hall. 

You have no boardin' missis to measure your feeds ; — 

To transfc m your old boots into steak ; 
And when pay-day comes round with its much pressing 
needs 

The big half of your wages to take. 
You've no one to hint that it's getting quite late, 

When a friend comes to give you a call; 
And when out after ten you've no reasons to state. 

In the pleasures of Bachelor's Hall. 

No parents or "loved ones" there chide you for nought, 
No mother-in-law gives a "breeze," 

No sisters, or cousins, or aunts must be fought, 
When trying to plague or to tease. 

You've no wife to nag of your being to club, 
No children around you to squall ; 

No dressmaker's bills! ah there is the rub- 
In the pleasures of Bachelor's Hall. 



I 102] 



U hen youVe hungry you've only to stifle the pan« 
From your cupboard well stocked near the w^- 

A,Klsud, comforts, „,y friends, quite exclusive b long 
To the pleasures of Bachelor's Hall. 

^^fJj^^^^T^iClPATIOK OF THE DRAIVArp 
AND OPENING OF THE FLORrDA pv^^o ^ 
GLADES COUNTRY TO SmL^^JM^^f ' 

They are coming! They are coming! 

Don t you hear their measured tread = 
Ihey are coming by the thousand 

In their search for daily bread : 
From the far off Rocky Mountains. 

From Pacific's shining strand. 
Come the echoes of their marching 

1 o the happy promised land • 
Oyer fields of corn and cotton 

Can't you hear the heavy tramp? 

With the Tropic iMoon for lamp. 

They are coming! They are coming' 

And their hopt;s are fixed and sure- 

Ihey are coming 'neath the frost line 

Where the summer suns endure- 
From the storm-swept Western prairie- 

From the Northern snowy plain ; 
lo the land of milk and honey- 
To the land of youth and gain 
Hark to yonder springing footsteps* 

Hear the laughter and the glee ' 
As they come in bands together 
To the clime from Winter free. 
[ 103 J 




They are coming! They are coming! 

And we cannot change their course; 
They have heard about the Everglades 

And will soon be at their source. 
O'er the classic Suwannee River 

They are coming by the score; 
And we'd better make the best of it 

And welcome them galore: 
For the time has come to hustle 

And get ready for the fray — 
As the long night vigil's ended 

And it's now Floridian Day. 




{ 104] 



ACROSTIC AND AUTOGRAPH VERSES 




h # 







1 rm 



ACROSTIC AND AUTOGRAPH VERSES. 

Throughout large portions of America it it a fad, especially 
of the fairer sejf to keep albums, u\ which friends are given 
an opportunity to write verses of praise, or advice, or "what 
they will' over their signature. The following are samples of 
verses the author has used, from time to time, at the solicitation 
of his friends: 



TO GRACE. 

Gold is nothing but glittering dust, 

/Rubies at best are but stone, 

^11 wealth is mere dross, 

Cease pining its loss 

£njoy what you have without moan. 

TO ANNIE. 

A woman who wishes to be 
A'o laggard in beauty and grace 
A^eed have no cause for fear, 
li she will but keep clear 
£ach folly which tends to debase. 

TO LIZZIE. 

Lizzie, if you wish to be happy 
In this world of care and woe. 
Zealously labor and try to be 
Zephyrs to each friend you know, 
/nasmuch as trying will help you 
Equally happy with them to grow. 



[ 107] 



:) 



\ 



\ 



lii 



I f 



TO EDIE HOWE. 

£agerly I took your album 
Dipped my pen deep down in ink, 
/n the meantime trying truly, 
£v'ry plan I could to think. 

//ere at last I make confession, 
Oh ! believe me, for 'tis true, 
[fhen each thought of line was written 
£v'ryone suggested you. 

TO GERTRUDE. 

CJoodly looks and graceful actions, 
£ach by virtue close entwined, 
/?eap respect from e'en the dullest, — 
Take the hearts of more refined. 
Rite me, pray, among the latter; 
(/ntold thoughts I can't appease; 
£>iity. Pleasure, I would forfeit, 
£ager much your grace to please. 

TO NELLIE. 

Now that I have a chance to write 

£ach wish I have for thee. 

Lest I should leave e'en one from sight 

Z-ife seemeth sad to me. 

/ therefore write with bated breath — 

£ach joy that's known be thine till death. 

TO EDNA (NICKNAMED "NED"). 

£ach moment since I saw her face 
/distracted here and there I've sped; 
A^or balm nor hope can peace replace, — 
A\\ life seems void apart from Ned. 

[ 108 ] 



TO NELLIE. 

A^earer to thee I feign would be. 

£ven in time of woe; 

/.ong years with thee could only be 

^ong years of joy to know; 

/ therefore write this humble prayer, 

£ach hour give me that you can spare. 

TO MAGGIE. 

^any friends in here have written; 
AW professing they arc true ; 
Greedy to admit they're smitten; 
Gladly writing love to you; 
/f I thought my case not hopeless 
Eagerly the same I'd do. 

TO FLORENCE. 

Fair lady while your pretty face, 

Z-ove's darts around do throw; 

Or while in you each cherished ^race, 

/?eveals sweet virtue's glow; 

Entranced I gaze— admire— adore; 

A^or chide me when I crave: 

Come Flo and all my peace restore ; 

Employ me as your slave. 

TO NETTIE. 

(A young lady in Newfoundland) 

A^ewfoundland has inspiration, 
£'en to suit a poet's whim; 
TTiemes of wonderful creation— 
rhemcs of grandeur crave his hymn. 
If, howe'er one pennon curls 
£xtra high, 'tis o'er her girls. 

r 109 ] 



3r **" 



~ t' 



; ' . 



\ 

1 



\ 



TO MAUD. 

Modesty is woman's shield; 
AW shame's bolts by it are scattered; 
Tntil pride worn weak points yield:— 
Danger then finds safeguard shattered. 

TO JESSIE. 

I've fumbled o'er your album neat 

With many an anxious look; 
I've turned the leaves o'er one by one, 

Gazed into ev'ry nook; 
But truth to tell I've only found 

One fpll page in the book. 

I therefore with prophetic pen 

To w.ite its fortune dare; 
A few more years will soon have passed, 

Its leaves now white and bare 
Will then be full of loved ones' names 

And autographs quite rare. 

Each page will breathe some loving wish 

For you of untold bliss; 
Perchance at whiles you'll look them o'er 

With many a sigh and kiss; 
And when you do, please don't forget 

To stop and sigh at this. 



TO 



i -a- 






(lu memory of a game of forfeits). 

If there's aught that is better 
Than diamonds or pearls, 

It is plucking ripe cherries 
With lovable girls. 



[ no 1 



TO A CHANCE ACQUAINTANCE. 

Dear Miss Cogher. though b :t seldom 

We have seen each ot'of, ;acr. 
Yet I have been quite ei rimored 

Of your beauty and y, ur ^-race. 
And though Fortune be : -J, st .,,, 

And we never more should meet] 
Yet with fondness I'll remember 

All our friendship, short but sweet. 

TO ETHEL. 

Little Ethel, bright and fair, 

Crowned by locks of golden hair, 

With her eyes of roguish blue. 

And her cheeks of rosy hue, 

Has so gladdened me of late. 

That I fain would bribe old Fate 

To forget for once his laws,— 

Banish from her life its flaws — 

Make her years but rounds of pleasure. 

i'ull of joy and health and leisure 

And when death at last must come- 

May It whisper "welcome home." 

TO A LADY 

the^i^'l.'^''""''/''"^ ^ '"'"'''" °^ 'he Vancouver H'orld staff 
tZ'- ""' '° '^'^ ""^"^ ^ ^'--- 0" Chinese i^S 

H you Wish to be happy, pray take my suggestion, 

Th n .'°"- '"^'^ - *'- ^---t Chinese question; 
Then when "justice to all" is your motto unfurled, 
1 know you 11 remember the scribe of the World. 



\ 111 ] 



m 



LiEi£ 



t 1 



', I 



I 
f 

ri 



TO A YOUNG LADY 

Who lived in a suburban town, and who the author used 
to see off on her train quite frequently:— 

When silver threads are mingled with 

Your golden locks of hair, 
Perchance at whiles you'll take your specs 

And find this album rare. 
You'll turn its pages one by one 

Till this vile scroll you gain; 
Then with a knowing smile you'll say: 

"That old three-thirty train." 

TO JIM THOMAS 

Whose lamp the author accidentally broke at an entertainment 
to which he had loaned it in North Ben.l, Oregon. 

Dear Thomas, if the truth be spoken, 

You must be a sorry scamp, 
If your ties of love are l)roken 

Just as easy as your lamp. 

TO ANNIE. 

"When age and care have changed your hair 

To locks of snowy white; 
When time and tide, by youth defied. 

Have nearly dimmed your sight; 

With tott'ring steps and flutt'ring heart, 

You'll find this book at times; 
And as you scan each Cupid's dart 

Well hid beneath these rhymes, 

You'll pass some by with deep drawn sigh. 

At others you will chaff. 
But when this page you chance to spy, 

You'll hold your sides and laugh. 

[ 112 ] 



f 9 



TO PORTIA. 

Golden rays of brightest sunshine 

Enter through the thickest cloud, 
Roses often grow in splendor 

Where the coarsest weeds do crowd; 
So it is with you, sweet Portia, 

In this world of sin and care 
Both in features and in goodness 

You keep blooming fresh and fair. 

TO MARTHA MILLS. 

Man indeed's a great creation, 

Ev'ryone admits 'tis so; 
And it needs no long oration 

To explain what all do know. 

But despite his power and greatness 
And his large expansive mind. 

For a peer, e'en though ^>p's mateless, 
He need not go far ' 

Woman, yes, despotic woman, 
Makes him do whate'er she wills. 

And much more if she's a charmer, 
Like my friend. Miss Martha Mills. 

TO MAGGIE THOR \ 

When Juneau's mists and Juneau's hills 

Have faded from the scene. 
And when 'tween me and Juneau's girls 

Vast oceans intervene; 
1 11 feel so sorry, glum and sad. 

So wretched, lonely, blue; 
There's nothing sure will make me glad, 

But coming back to you. 



[ 113 ] 



-..«^.«,-jn^.-7. .rm^rm'^^ 



ii 



TO MRS. THORP. 

At an Easter festival in Juneau, Alaska, a personified nursery 
rhyme performance was given, in which Mrs. Thorp's son, 
Murph, represented the personage who ministered to the I'iou's 
wants of the author, supposed to be Simple Simon. 

In after years, when looking o'er 
These leaves then torn and shattered, 

While thinking of the friends who wrote 
Your praises true or flattered; 

Try hard to call to mind that night. 
When Murph was Tom the pieman; 

For then 'twill be an easy flight 
To think of Simple Simon. 

TO ONE ABOUT TO LEAVE HOME. 

You'll find, my friend, when far away, 

In search of light you roam; 
As dimmer grows its distant ray, 

More bright 'twill beam at home. 

TO NETTIE 

Who had expressed a desire in my presence to become an 
author. 

Nettie if you'd be successful, 

In the literary strife ; 
Your desires must all end blissful. 

If you strive to give them life. 

MISCELLAXEOUS. 

I 

To write all your praises 

Seems to me so absurd; 
I think I'll just speak them, 

And not write a word. 

[ 114 ] 




II 

When in a whirl of joy and glee 
I care not if you think of me; 
But when you're sad and feeling glum, 
Confide in me and I'll keep "mum." 

Ill 

My love for you is like a tree 
In some green woodland dale, 

As older it may grow in years, 
It grows more strong and hale. 

IV 

If all your praises I siiould write 

Within this little book, 
I fear none else would have a page, 

Nor e'en one little nook. 



I take your album off the shelf. 

And write abo.e my name 
These words, to show my love for you 

Will always be the same. 

VI 

In after years when time and tide 
Have changed your hair ajid feature.',. 

You'll find this book, and iaughing say: 
How oft I charmed these creatures. 

VII 

As the air is full of birds. 
So this book of gentle words; 
As the sea is ful! of fishes, 
So this page of my good wishes. 

[ 115 ] 



7i 




VIII 

When life is done, its troubles o'er, 
May death be bu* the open door 
Through which you'll pass to brighter shore, 
To enjoy peace for evermore. 

IX 

Though I feign would conceal what I'm forced to admit, 
Since I saw you I've lost both my heart and my wit ; 
For none else can I love; nought else can I do, 
But think, talk or sing uf my meetings with you. 



That there's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip, 

Is a proverb as old as it's true ; 
So when friends make a break, be quite certain you take 

The intention for all that they do. 

XI 

Though the weeks of our friendship are scarcely a score, 

I feel, as I now say adieu, 
That 'tis well for my heart we so quickly must part, 

Else soon 'twould be broken in two. 

XII 

In haste I glance your album o'er. 

Then take my ink and pen. 
And write this word or two to say, 

I hope we'll meet again. 

XIII 

Your friendship partner, I confess, 

(Nor do not think I flatter,) 
Is quite as needful to my bliss, 

As whisky is to water. 



[ 116] 



EPITAPHS. 



A 1 . 




If 



4 


i 



I '''Hi 

iHi 



ON A BIRD. 

Approach ye warblers from on high, 

And chant your tuneful grief; 
Here lies a mate, snatched from the sky 

By Death, that dariiiK thief. 
Yet while ye sorrow, still rejoice; 

For from the funeral pyre. 
Good warblers rise to higher skies. 

To join the heavenly choir. 

ON A LAZY MAN. 

Here lies Simon Smoothface, whose most noted trait 
Ere he passed through the Valley of Sorrow, 

Was never to dream of commencing today 
Any task he might shirk till tomorrow. 

ON A HOT-HEADED FRIEND. 

Grown cool at last, here lies McLaren 
Upon whose head, though far from barren. 
No beastie dared to rest its feet— 
Lest in the act it died ui heat. 

ON AN EMPLOYER 

Whose most prominent trait was an ever-growing desire to be 
thoroughly understood. In his efforts to make his instructions 
plain, or, as he himself termed it, "self-explanatory." he had 
become very tautological in his style of composition, while 
his conversation fairly bristled with the interrogation, "do you 
understand ?" 

Here Carr lies low; Death's magic wand 
Has proved its power, "you understand?" 
No more his wordy ways will worry, 
For reasons "self explanatory." 

[ 119] 






■I- 




ON A WELL-KNOWN TOPER. 
Dear friends, a line or two will do 

To tell you who lies here; 
For 'neath this stone, without a groan, 

There lies a keg of beer. 

In other words, here lies T — P — , 

A victim to strong drink; 
To whiskey's lair he went so near, 

He toppled o'er the brink. 

ON AN ELDERLY GENTLEMAN 

Whose irritability made it impossible for those with whom 
he had to deal to ever understand his quite frequently proffered 
instructions. When, however, his orders were carried out 
apparently to the lettef, it was the most natural thing in the 
world to hear him say in anything but amiable tones: "Look 
here, I told you from the first that that was wrong." 

Death surel" is a daring demon. 

To brave tb v .ath of uncle Heman; 

And heedless near his dying song: 

"I told you. Death, that that was wrong." 

ON A VERY ESTIMABLE YOUNG LADY. 

Tread lightly here, for 'neath this mound 

My lady fair doth lie; 
A fact which proves to all around. 

That saints do sometimes die. 

In life so lovable and good. 

Unerring and divine. 
Perhaps 'twere better that she should 

Mid heaven's beauty shine. 

ON A CHATTERBOX. 
Here Horace lies a silent prize 

Of unrelenting Death; 
He talked so much while live and well — 
He used up all his breath. 
[ 120 i 



ON MY EARLIEST PATRON. 

In sweet oblivion 'neath this tomb, 

Friend Forbes lies in state; 
While ling'ring near in cheerless gloom, 

We mourn our luckless fate. 

For such a jovial fellow, he, 

With ne'er a downcast face; 
Vain, vain the hope, all men agree. 

To fill his vacant place. 



ed 

lUt 

he 
ok 



ON MY FRIEND IDA. 

'Twere easy seen that will of man 
With Death has nought to do; 

For 'neath this stone poor Ida lies. 
While all the world doth rue. 

In life so full of joyous fun. 

So beautiful and fair; 
When Death her person would not shun. 

What then will he not dare? 



ON A SMALL BOY. 

Here Wilfred lies, some say brought low 
By making queer suggestions; 

But others think, who ought to know. 
He died from asking questions. 



ON AN INVETERATE THEATREGOER. 

Ye stricken comrades, cease your wailing. 
While Fame to passers is detailing, 
How Death found out poor Burton's failing. 
And used it sore. 

[ 121 3 



i • 



\ 



To theatres he went so often, 
A Program e'en his brain could soften, 
So Death pinned one inside a coffin, 
And raised the door. 

And as poor Burton that way passed 
Upon that bill one look he cast, 
But little thought it was his last. 
As near he drew. 

Inside the box he quickly stept. 
When down the lid behind him crept 
And soon in Deaths cold arms he slept. 
While all must rue. 



ON A REVEREND FRIEND. 

Behold ! to Cosgrove's tomb we've come • 
We gaze, but sorrow keeps us dumb- 
For ,t was he, our learned parson. 
W ho taught us to translate Upharsin ; 
Who oft explained the gospel stury. 
By parable or allegory; 
And who in feeling tones did often 
Tell us how best to cheat the coffin. 
But here, alas!— his latest sermon- 
He lies the feast of hungry vermin 

wu""" °//''^ "■"'^' ^^ °"" «=o"'d teach; 
Whose lifeless bones thus wisely preach' 



1 * 



ON MR. Mcpherson. 

This stone was erected 
To recall that great person, 

Who was known to this world, 
By the name of McPhersoa 

I 122] 



His holy demeanor,— 

Personified truth- 
Has been used ever since 

As a guidance for youth. 

How his wondrous career 

On this earth was begun 
Is a myst'ry to most, 

And remembered by none. 

But more wondrous his ending, 

H history's true; 
For in broadest daylight, 

He just faded from view. 

ON A PROFESSOR OF SCIENCE 

Who was also an .\matetir Artist 

Below in crisp and cheerless garb, 
Poor Wright in silence lies ; 

While o'er him grows an uncalled herb 
In hopes its name will rise. 

Around his grave with doleful look, 
Are pebbles, rocks and stones; 

Collected there since life forsook 
His fast decaying bones. 

And well they may their sorrow show, 
For did he not, while well, 

With learned look and conscious glow, 
Their names and species tell? 

How great, ye flowers and trees around. 
Must be your grief this day; 

'Twas he who could, with skillful art. 
Your very life portray. 

[ 123 ] 






And you, ye stars, in pity weep, 
For this your comrade dead; 

Who now will tell, profound and deep, 
The way your course is sped? 



And last of all, ye human race, 
With noiseless step draw nigh; 

When Death such learnedness can face. 
You sure have cause to sigh ! 






ON SIR ISAAC PITMAN. 

The father of Phonography. Reguiescat in Pace. 

Here lies Isaac Pitman who, when on earth's level, 
In driving men crazy far outstripped the Devil; 
With his "iths" and his "thees" and his "ishes" and 

"zhees" 
No wonder so many long wished him at ease: 
But now that he's gone — give to Caesar his due — 
Let us moan in his honor one last "Aw-oh-oo." 
How very consoling, when we follow his lead, 
To know in Death's confines whose counsel to heed ; 
For is it not likely when Old Nick gets at him. 
Sir Isaac will take down proceedings verbatim? 

ON AN OLD MAID 

Who, in spite of many afternoon naps and a remarkable 
appetite, remained fearfully and wonderfully lean. 

When Rachel in life her lone vigil was keeping, 

Her pleasures consisted in eating and sleeping; 

But now — while Earth's wriggling hosts hungrily 

weep — 
Death limits her pleasures to limitless sleep. 



[ 124 ] 



ON JACK McADAM, 

An old-time office mate, who had a rascally habit of purloining 
the authors eraser, pencil or pen. for the sake of getting him 
wiia, as he very suggestively termed it. 

Ye thieves and robbers bold, draw near, 

And keep your faces calm; 
Here lies a man you once held dear, 

Poor Johnny Mac-a-dam. 

ON MY FRIEND GRACE, 

Whose most noticeable peculiarity was the very frequent 
ejaculation of the phrase, "Oh" dear." 

Poor Beauty runs life's dreary race 

All lonely since we buried Grace; 

For 'neath this mound, a fettered guest. 

The latter lies in dreamless rest. 

Far up aloft on angel wing 

Her soul has soared with sair s to sing; 

But ere its flight, for partin^ cheer. 

The Muses caught her last "Oh dear." 

ON THE HON. FRED'K S. MORSE. 

Who had been long enough in Florida politics to be accused 
by his opponents of almost every imaginable crime, but who 
m spite of all accusations was a most excellent good fellow 
His kindness of heart was such that whenever it fell to his lot 
to have to admonish anyone he would always soften tb' stroke 
by the interrogation "You know what I mean?" 

Here moulds the corse of "modest" Morse; 
While sad-eyed girls his vows rehearse; 
That he is dead "The Boys" agree— 
His glass undrained confirms him free: 
His prayers all spoke— his last bank broke- 
Well played his last outrageous joke: 
Let's now forget his fits of spleen, 
And think of "You know what I mean." 

[ 125] 



i« 



'\ 



\ 



ON A STOUT LADY. 

Whose obesity was not her only distraction 

Here Austie lies, nor will she rise 
Till worms her carcase lighten, 

And then Old Nick will have her quick, 
With fat his fire to brighten. 

A FLEDGLING'S EPITAPH. 

There once was a dear little bird 

Whose twitterings, no longer are heard; 

It aspired to the sky, 

While unable to fly, 

And so 'neath this mound is interred. 



\l 



u 



SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF IRENE. 

Though her body still hallows this funeral pyre. 
Her spirit has joined the invisible choir. 

Through silence soft melodie'^ stealthily come: 
"Live nobly and proudly I'll welcome you home." 



•i^ 



^trS 



ENGRAVED ON A MONUMENT. 

Erected to the memory of parents and brother by the surviving 
members of the family. 

Here 'neath the sod, oblivious though we weep, 
A father, mother and a brother sleep; 
Nor blame nor question th' inevitable frost. 
If all too quickly their comradeship was lost: 
The mystery of death, who curiously would brave. 
Must first their loved ones meet beyond the silent 
grave. 



126 ] 



ON JUNEAU'S MUSE. 



ne. 



ving 



nT""So«r' '^"•""r'' *" "^ ""' issue i„re7ted he' o.lot 
ing. Some men m their own minds think they wereTI 

that no mus 'h°otve ha'rd^Tu.r"" • ^" ''' ^"•"'°*'«- 
that fh. f II '.^"^'^ Jiardy, could survive such a blow as 

iublicl '"' '""^ ""^ immediately placed before the 

Upon the lonely mountain side 
Fair Juneau's muse lies buried; 

Its soul has crossed that great divide 
O'er which we all are ferried. 

Despite its youth, despite its vim, 

Despite its good intentions. 
It was maligned to suit a whim 

And further man's contentions. 

The Free Press, maddened by the truth 
The poor deceased was telling, 

Tried hard to mime the witty youth, 
But failed, with envy swelling. 

It straightway, moved by foul intent. 
With venom fell to swearing; 

Our muse, unable to resent, 
Grew stiff as any herring. 



t: 
e, 
lent 



(Later) -Take care, take care, ye brimstone sprites. 
You'll soon, alas! be weeping; 
Our muse recovered from the bites- 
It was not dead, but sleeping. 



r 127 ] 



= ■, 



\ 







ON A LITTLE GIRL 

Mary Russell, by name, who just lived long enough to make 
herself sorely missed when called by the stern reaper to a better 
place." 

Ye Strangers here in wonder stand 
And see the work of Death's dread hand ; 
That awful power no more despise, 
His latest victim, Mary, lies. 
No fairer flower, no brighter gem 
Could he to such a fate condemn, 
And we the losers by Death's gain 
Must give her up, despite the pain. 

Her years, though barely half a score. 
Have made htr loss to us so sore. 
We cannot still our throbbing hearts. 
Now vacant left by fate's fell darts. 
Those large, dark eyes, that pretty face, 
Must now enhance a better place. 
From earth she's gone to realms above. 
To taste the sweets of heavenly love. 



ON A CRAB SHELL, 

Picked up on the shores of Alaska and taken to Cleveland, 
Ohio, by Dr. Volney McAlpine, a dentist of that city, whom the 
author met while sojourning at Sitka. 

Ye Cleveland strangers, hear my prayer. 
And lift my corse with tender care; 
From Sitka's far off strand I've come. 
Against my will, for 'twas my home. 
Alive I scorned man's cunning wiles 
And spurned alike his frowns or smiles; 
But when laid low by Death's dread stab, 
Man picked me up a conquered crab. 



[ 128 ] 



IN MExMORIAM "F. C. C. B." 

An Irish solicitor's apprentice; alias a would-be shotsman and 
sport; alias a self-claimed descendent of Henry the Third by 
his father's side; alias more recently of so-called "landed gen'trv" 
stock; alias "Mr. Cecil" as his Uncle-the solicitor-insisted on 
calling h.m to tb^ ordinary "trash" of the office; alias a champion 
cyclist; alias the boasted offspring of a Persian Princess by his 
mothers side; alias a "saved" Plymouth Brother attending at 
Merrion Hall, Dublin. 

The Courts where B blundered now know him 

no more; 
Wild geese, he so many times missed, miss him sore; 
This side-shoot of Henry takes here his long rest ; 
While lands, al!.j,ed ancestors lorded are blest. 
R. I. P. "Mister Cecil." Your bike-scorching past— 
The scorching you'll now get forever will last. 

But Bagdad is dreary. A prince of its blood. 
From feeding on others has here become food: 
"A child of mine dead ! Which? Who was its ma 
"Of the loves in my harem?" loud queries the Shah. 
Yet, silent to him— to aaint Gabriel's call 
These bones will croak: "Saved Lord-at Merrion 
Hall." 



THE POET'S EPITAPH 

While suffering from a visitation of boils that confined him 
to his room for some days, the Author sent the following verses 
to his fellow lodgers, to account for his absence from the festive 
board: 

Come here aspiring youth and learn 

What weapon Death will use, 
When he sees fit to overturn 

A follower of the Muse; 
Poor rhyming Currie chanced to cross 

His pathway, cold and bleak, 
Death straightway aimed and felled him with— 

A boil upon his cheek. 

[ \29 ] 



EPIGRAMS ON VARIOUS OCCASIONS. 





\ f 



• l' t 




i.li !! 



WONDERS OF AMERICA. 

"What is that?" said Pat in wonder, 
As we entered New York Bay; 

And the sunset gun was booming 
Out the close of dying day. 

"That's the sunset," said a traveler, 
Who had heard it peal before, ' 

And who thought the Celtic stranger 
Could discern a cannon's roar. 

"Well bedad! that bates ould Ireland, 
^^ And the divil too," said Pat; 
"Who'd a thunk the sun could settle 
With a thunderin' thud like that?" 

THE EDITORS WERE DENSE. 

He was a wag of great renown, 

His words with brilliance shone, 
His sweetheart said e'en London town 

Such wit ne'er looked upon. 
But yet while friends his praises sang. 

Or aped his subtle vein. 
His jokes were like a boomerang— 

They all came back again. 

HIS REASONS WERE "LUMINOUS." 

Smith: Come up to the match on the diamond mr 

f nend ? 
.rones: If it were not so misty, I would 
bmith: But why should mere mist such a pleasure 

suspend ? 
Jones: Because a damp match is no good. 

[ 133 ] 



l^ 




NOT CONCISE ENOUGH. 

On hearing a tittle man refer to his large wife as his "better 
half." 

Your "better half" say you? Well, that takes the cake' 
For telling the truth you'll not rank among martyrs. 

To your wife, sir, and quick an apology make : 
According tc weight, she's your "better three-quar 
ters." 





THE STRANGE ADVERTISEMENT. 

Of a lady who dealt in second-hand wearing apparel. 

Miss Smith, knowing wealth on economy based. 
Has now "left-oflf" clothing to suit every taste!! 

IN ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

Of a pair of shoes received as a ^rting gift from a friend. 

Dear Lamble, accept a bard's most grateful thanks; 

A verse for your kindness his muse is commandiiip 
Your gift with a gift from Divinity ranks; 

From you — happy boast — he received understandii.^^ 

A TOAST. 

Here's a health to the men who do things, 

To the men who are unafraid ; 
To the men who in spite of barriers 

Have >nquered the frowning shade. 
YeSj here's to the men who do things, 

May their number never grow less ; 
For on them alone we are forced to own 

Dependeth the world's success. 



[ 134] 



)etter 

tyrs. 
luar 



REFLECTIONS ON THE YANKEE SPANKO 

WAR. 

Thif wir wa. precipitated by the blowing up (accidentally or 
otherwise) of the U S War sm„ "m .. :""-'-'"'"""y o^ 

harbor o. Havana^^.t^-thrroi.e^r- Santil "o. "T^^ 
0,e most considerable engagement, during the war, a mule only 
.a, lolled, according to the Spanish des,«,ches to Madrid 

Though 'tis said Uncle Sam sheer brute strength does 
abhor, 

it was by main force he won in his late Spanish war; 
i'or despite the Armada, historic of Spain 
Spain's one great, weak spot was exposed on the ma!„ 
Not the mane of the mule that was killed, by the way- 
That s not what I mane/' as friend Patrick would say- 
Hut to sum up the matter, men say in the main ■ 
That the Maine was the reason why Sammy whipped 
Spam. 



nd. 

:s; 
[inft 



PROFESSIONAL COURTESIES. 
"Doctor." said a legal light 
^^ To his friend of pills and plasters, 
"Count yourself a lucky wight. 

Being saved from earned disasters. 
Thank your stars that, ere they're found. 

Dictor's 'bulls' go underground." 

'Right you are," exclaimed the Doc, 
"Medicine beats law to pieces: 

For, though it is only talk 
That a lawyer's wealth increases: 

Still his errors cause some care, 
Dangling as they do 'in air.'" 



r 135 ] 




CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 

In the year 1898 a Run, calling himMlf de Rougemont, cauKcd 
it to he advertiMd that he had come through, ai a very truth, 
experiences tnat would have done credit to Gulliver and must 
have made Baron Munchausen turn over in hi* grave. Un- 
fortunately, however, inquiry put a new light on the itory and 
Monsieur de Rougemont, disap(>eared into even greater obscurity 
than that from which he had appe'. ed. 

The Lord gave f!- !<< ••{iemont to us, 
Until people his aio-y had heard ; 

Then the Lord took him out of the fuss — 
So blest be the name of the Lord. 



FELINE PHILOSOPHY. 

^ vas musing one day in the old-fashioned way, 

Trying hard to commune with my fate; 
While, side me there sat a purring old cat, 

In a quiet and dignified state : 
"What," says I, while stroking my feline friend's coat, 

"Is the acme of all that is nice?" 
When, judge my surprise as from pussy's black throat. 

Came the answer quite audibly — "mice." 

Dear, dear ! how absurd ! thought I with a smile ; 

I must surely be dreaming to-day; 
A cat cannot talk; to think so is vile! 

And puss purred her monotonous lay: 
Then in rev'rie again, "Is there nought to attain, 

Without 'gaging worlds in our spats?" 
When distinct as before, from her seat on the floor, 

Grimalkin looked up and said "rats." 






136 ] 



BABEL SUBSTITUTED. 

In Montreal, Canada, an Ice Palace uied to be constructed 
every other winter ag the grand attraction of a Winter Carnival. 
The lite of the palace was Dominion Square, around which many 
of the molt beautiful churchei, for which the city ii noted, are 
cluitered. 

Sinner attend ! This icy pile is where you ought to 

dwell; 
For, while the churches that surround may warn you 

out of h — 1 ; 
Yet once within these snowy walls, you certainly would 

learn, 
That all the brimstone Nick might send could hardlr 

make you burn. 

DUTY TO THE DEATfi. 

Thii verse wai called forth by the non-arrival of a holiday 
niiniber of "The Builder," a magazine in which views of Dublin 
architecture were the attraction and which paper had been 
"posted" to the author as a present, but never received. 

Alas! what a pity! "The Builder" is gone. 

Now Celtic construction instructs the unknown. 

On a monument over its "picturesque" ghost 

As its due should be written: ' 'Twas lost at its post." 



BREVITY IS THE SOUL OF WIT.* 

There once was a slug, 

Crept into plugged lug, 

Of the captain of "Scions of Eve;" 

But the Cap with a poke, 

Caught on to the joke, 

And slugs laugh but once at the deaf. 

'NOTE — For a different meaning to this epigram add the 
sniirwl "er" fr. the short lines and "i!" to the long linen. This 
is somewhat far-fetched but is a suggestion to more patient 
jokers of what might be done with the English language. 

[ 137 ] 



IN A SONG BOOK 

Presented to a dear, little lady friend. 

Some people are always bemoaning their fate 
And wailing the luck that seems always too late . 
But let us be wise and set worries a-winging: 
Since life must be lived, why not live through it 
singing ? 

SMOKING IS CATCHING. 

That smoking is catching has now become plain; 
The maids who most often touch lips with the men, 
Have caught the contagion attached to their pets, 
And now the ^oor creatures must smoke cigarettes. 

THEIR YANKEE-DOODLE-DO. 

When loss of dower unties the string 

Of titled dudes who woo; 
Some Yankee maids first learn to sing 

Their Yankee dude 'ill do. 




SO NEAR AND YET SO FAR. 

That New York policeman and Florida fleas. 
Have one trait in common the country agrees; 
When anxious to find them, despite all your panting. 
It's certain as Fate, you'll find both to be wanting! 

LET THERE BE LIGHT. 

A woman's wealth of borrowed hair, 

And pulpit hiding hat, 
Has oft inspired the Christian's prayer: 

As at her back he sat. 

r 138] 



h it 



nen, 
ttes. 



HOW TIMES HAVE CHANGED. 

The poets have sung that in days of the past, 

While Dian, a maiden divine, 
Was dipping her person so buxom and chaste, 

In billows of feathery brine. 
One, Actaeon, sawr her and for his offense. 

Was suddenly changed to a stag; 
Which straightway, to add to his horror intense, 

Was devoured by a favorite dog. 

The tale has its weak points, all critics confess. 

For why should Diana be mad; 
Either women have changed or her sea-bathing dress 

Must have fitted her awfully bad. 
Were latter-day maidens in taking their bath. 

And a man happened by so sedate, 
As not to look at them, they'd deem him in wrath 

More worthy of Actaeon's fate. 



ng- 



POETS WILL UNDERSTAND. 

The modern poet's passion wail — 

His daily jars and frets- 
Soon cease when each returning mail 
Brings "Editor's regrets," etc. 

TECHNICAL TERMS. 

The man who holds a lady's hand 

Nor squeezes it enough, 
Said Nellie to her newest friend, 

We ladies call "a muff." 



But when a man with manly art. 
And squeeze and kiss and throe. 

Essays to shoot sweet Cupid's dart: 
That man we call "a bow." 



139 ] 



'\ 



BRITAIN'S ORACLE. 

When John Bull's asked to tell his views 

On any weighty question: 
He dares not risk his name to lose 

By making weak suggestion ; 
But quick his countrymen he mimes 

And quotes a column from "The Times." 




A LADY'S POCKET. 

While the fair one's hand is roving, 

With a touch so light and loving, 

Feeling for ,the fleeting pocket where her ready 

money lies: 
Lo! a thief has seen it yawning, 
Like a rent within an awning. 
And before her fingers get there he has robbed it 

of its prize. 



PADEREWSKI AGAIN. 

Jf the "striking" reforms of the Socialist host 
We with musical touches compare, 

We'll find that a leader of these is "Herr Most' 
While the leader of those is "Most hair." 



SUB-DUDE. 

What did the dude become, my dear, 
Who wed the maid he wooed? 
Why, George, said she, the reason's clear! 
The dude became subdued. 






140 ] 



%. 



THE THOUGHTS 

Of a young lady whose lover's name was "Knight." 

Oh come, sweet Knight, and light my darkened day; 

For day .s night when thou my knight art gone. 
While night is day if gilded by the ray 

Of thee, my Knight, whose coming is the dawn. 

LUCK IN ODD NUMBERS. 

Said the highwayman out on the road. 
As his gun waked the coach from its slumbers, 

And he reaped wheresoever he strode: 
"Without doubt there is luck in awed numbers." 

QUITE LIBERAL BUT ! 



"That I'm open to conviction 

"Is gospel truth," said he; 
"But the man who can convince me 

"Is the man I want to see." 

IT NEEDS EDUCATING. 

Gilhooly was testing his writing machine. 

With fingers on keys and distress in his mien ; 

"By the powers," said he, "this invention's no good- 

"Though it prints like a book, it don't spell as it should." 



EVOLUTION. 

Impressions on first hearing a sermon by Dr. Parker, the famous 
London Divine. 

The art of acting has become 

So very much the rage; 
That now to send its message hom.e. 

The pulpit apes the stage. 

[ 141 ] 



% -A t 



EVEN MASONS MAY BE MEAN. 

In :nemory of unmasonic treatment received at the hands of 
a Tyler and Secretary at the Masonic Temple, on Moleswortb 
Street, Dublin. 

There are sheep of blackest hue 

In the midst of every riock; 
Where, to give old Nick his due, 

Their dark coats relieve the stock. 
In each walk of worldly life 

Good and bad extremes are seen : 
Angels once caused heavenly strife : 

Even Masons may be mean. 



■«;' 1 



AN IRISH TRAMP'S APOLOGY TO LONG- 
FELLOW. 

In happy homes he saw the light. 

Of household fires gleam warm and bright. 

Beyond a smoky lantern shone; 

And from his lips escaped a groan: 

The Workhouse ! 



I I 




WOMEN HAVE NO RIGHTS. 

Away with your doctrine that woman has right; 
The great men of England have scouted it quite ; 
Her feminine folly has so much enraged 
That from the King's commons* frail woman is 
caged. 

•Whoever has been in the House of Commons at Westminster 
will remember that the ladies' gallery is at the very top of the 
building and a sort of iron wicker work keeps the fair sex from 
seeing any more than is absolutely necessary — for what particular 
reason the authorities know best. 



142 



PRACTICAL POETRY. 

"The first position I obuined in Dublin, Ireland, was assistant 
foreman in a soap factory." assistant 

A wandering bard to Dublin came 
Filled with reformer's hope; 

The natives prized his lofty aim, 
And set him making soap. 

THE POET'S PLAINT. 
Rhyme like a punster dissipates all mighty thought 
And trams majestic Pegasus to sprightly trot 
How can one hope to soar to dim celestial height 
If he must see his end before he starts his flight? 
And yet, this paradox I'm sorry to admit. 
When blank verse is my task unconsciously I fit 
Rhyme to each measured line, despite contrary care 
Until my mighty thoughts flit from me in despair. 

WITH A BOX OF CHOCOLATES. 

As an acknowledgment of a bouquet of flowers from a lady. 

Sweet, take these sweets; and may their sweetness be- 
bweet as the sweetness of your smiles to me 
1 II he content if in their taste lie powers 
To prove me grateful for your gift of' flowers. 

*NOT DROWNED-BUT POISONED. 

A corpse, in Dublin's river drowned, 

When rescued in a giffey— 
The verdict that the jury found. 

Was: Poisoned in the Liflfey. 

Fre^SIl7i^!!l"lZ '' " ^°''' *''*' "^ ""'^ eigbt-year-old friend, 
i-reddie Ca.rns. told me with "difficult pains." I saw the ooin 

■•Wre' L^f::"' f"^.'^'"'r-«^^ -» omy it but the .uota 1 
r,ver'Lefo::.-rut°hor:^"" -as.uerading under the name of a 

f 143 ] 



nm i r i^a 



- ^^ 







AN ESSAY ON "KANE." 

About the time this epigram was written, the Grand Mastci 
of the Orange Order, a very important institution in the North 
of Ireland, was Dr. Kane. If the reader is an Orangeman, the 
last line should be read not spoken; but if an anti-Orangeman, 
it should be spoken not read. In this way the author hopes ii 
accommodate himself to two very opposite opinions. 

Cayenne is a kind of red pepper; 

And cane is a sugary weed; 
And Cain was a strong moral leper: — 

But Kane was as Abel, indeed. 

TO A LITTLE FRIEND. 

On the blank leaf of a "Santa Claus" Book. 

If you'ld be happy then agree 

With God and all his laws; 
Since, but for Him, there would not l)e 

A kind old Santa Claus. 

TO ANOTHER LITTLE FRIEND. 

Prolong to years your baby hours ; 

Keep youthful while you can; 
For childish prattle wieldeth powers 

When wiser talk is vain. 



i . 



POLITICS IN BRITISH COLUMBIA. 

Cotton, Kitchen and Brown were in the Opposition benches 
of the House of Assembly in the Spring of 189S. The following 
was published in a Government newspaper on the eve of .i 
provincial election : 

Though the weather is still 
Rather sloppy and chill, 
The time for House-cleaning is nigh; 
When we'll wash Kitchen's down ; 
Scour and bleach what is Brown ; 
And hang out soiled Cotton to dry. 

f 144 ] 



Mastc-i 
Nortl! 
in, the 
jeman 
ipes t I 



enclies 

lowiiiK 

of a 



OSCULATION 

Ai described by a female practitioner. 

A kiss is a something of strangest device 
It's made out of nothing, but, oh my! it's nice. 

A HINT. 

Fond maiden be warned; keep a guard o'er your 

charms ; 
Nor throw yourself into the saintliest arms; 
When love comes unbidden, it wakes man's mistrust: 
Rash impulse excites not his love— but his lust. 

WORDS TO THE WISE. 

Boys take what's to spare 

Of the kisses girls share 

With ev'ry Tom, Richard and Harry; 

But mark you, my dears: 

Such bliss turns to tears: 

It's the maid that's least kissed that men marry. 

CONSISTENT SPELLING. 

There once was a donee bought a calf 
Which he tried hard to gied with a st^.lf 
But the beast would nought deign 
To heed sweign, ceign or peign 
Which made e'en stade bystanders lalf. 



FACTS FROM AFAR. 

So fierce the heat 'neath Tropic skies, 
When night its cap has doffed; 

Folks have to feed their hens on ice 
To get their eggs boiled soft. 



[ 145 1 





B p*- 



;,|.,^' 



I L 



I f w 



A RULE FOR EPIGRAMS. 

When epigrams are written so 
That grossness seems the poet's foe, 
The nearer danger comes the hit 
The more side splitting is the wit. 

AND HE STILL WONDERS. 

Wonderingly enquired the guest : 
"Birds-nest pudding! what bird fixed it?" 

Haughtily said she addressed: 
"Sir, it were the cook 'oo mixed it." 

SHE HAD EATEN OF THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT. 

An incident of married felicity. 

"Turn on your other side, my dear," 

Said he with sleepy sneeze, 
"I'd like the scent of onions changed 

To hair-oil, if you please." 

BEFORE HIS HONOR. 

What is your business? said the Judge; 
A Broker, sir ; — A Broker, fudge ! 
You are a tramp from outside view 
How can you be a broker, too? 
Well, judge, that's just my little joke 
Ain't I a broker when I'm broke?" 

A TIME FOR EVERYTHING. 

A Glasgow employer found fault with his clerk 

For coming too often unshaven to work: 

Says he, "W.^ie for clerical labor I pay 

I will not have clerks growing whiskers all day. 

I mean them to work when to office they come: 

If beard you must have, you must grow it at home." 

r 146] 



UIT. 



A REPLY. 

To a fellow-lodger in Ireland on hi> complaining that the 
maid had neglected to rinse hia v.ash hand basin. The word 
"digs" IS the slang term for lodgings throughout the British 
Isles. 

Be wise, man! No longer such worries rehearse; 
You ought to thank heaven that things are no worse. 
Men should not expect spotless basins in "digs" 
Where those who must clean them were reared among 
pigs. 

A CONUNDRUM. 

An acrostic, pinned to the pillow of a roommate not long 
parted from his fiancee, in Bonnie Scotia. 

Enveloped in blankets here Willie reclines; 
Long into the midnight he lies and repines; 
Susceptible much to the charms of the fair 
Perhaps some sweet lassie— too often man's care- 
Excites and compels him to pining and prayer. 
Too true, 'tis a lass keeps his eyelids aflame:— 
Herein, if you look, you'll discover her name. 



ame. 



TO A LADY TEACHER 

In the Indian Mission School at Sitka, .Alaska, on the eve of 
her marriage to a friend oi the author, named Millmore. 

Here's to the sly rascal, who, to suit his ambition, 
Has with sorrow so stricken the folks at the Mission, 
And good health to the lady he met to adore, 
And at last to convert into Mrs. Millmore. 

Not prepared to draw wrath from a man who could 

dare 
To aspire to the love of a person so fair, 
I close by desiring no care shall annnv 
Their sojourn together through long years of joy. 

[ 147 ] 



I i 



WITH A CHRISTMAS PRESENT 
To a jroung lady uaually known by the nickname of "Ned." 

As Christmas was coming, it ran through my head 
I ought to send something to dear little Ned. 
But what could I send her ? Ah ! that made me shiver, 
For gifts should be pleasing and plead for the giver. 
I pondered and ponder'd on that fact intent, 
Till sudden it struck me — I'll send her some scent, 
So that when o'er presents she muses alone, 
She'll mix up my mem'ry with Eau de Cologne. 

WRITTEN BY REQUEST 

Of a lady who, for attention to an acquaintance during sick- 
neat, was the recipient from that acquaintance of a dozen glasses 
and a poetical letter of gratitude. 

If ever a lady had cause for elation, 

I now have, I say without hesitation, 

For having just tried life's true pathway to climb 

I'm honored with presents, kind wishes and rhyme. 

Many thanks for your friendship and wishes so fair. 

Nor mention my trifling attention and care; 

I did but my duty, to help make amends 

For your being disabled so far from your friends. 

And again, many thanks for the glasses so rare 
(With which you have coupled those wishes so fair). 
May each draught ever quaffed from each glass but be 
A toast to your health and your prosperity. 

WITH A PRESENT 

To a lady in whose house I used to reside while in Lindsay, Ont. 

If there's aught I dislike, it is being ungrateful 
For kind little offices strangers may do; 

So I think that it would be both, heartless and hateful. 
To not own the debt that I owe Mrs. Trew. 

[ 148] 



's. 



d." 



iver, 
er. 



When sick and in trouble, alone and dejected, 
She ministered unto my every need ; 

And showed to me kindness so little expected, 
It cannot but make me feel grateful indeed. 

Accept this small gift, Mrs. Trew, as a token, 
To prove the confession above is sincere; 

And may it be pledge of a friendship unbroken, 
To follow and bless us through each coming year. 



sick- 
lasses 



■me. 
fair, 



air), 
ut be 



, Ont. 



ON A XMAS CARD TO FATHER. 

Christmas bells their chimes are ringing, 
And the world, on pleasure bent. 

Of its joys are loudly singing. 
Filled with glee and merriment. 

Voices mingling, sleighbells jingling, 
Everywhere with gladsome sound; 

Hearts are lighter, hopes are brighter, 
Christmas has once more come round. 

With this card and earnest greeting. 

Full of filial wish from me. 
Father dear, may Christmas lavish 

Stores of joy and bliss on thee. 

WITH A BIRTHDAY PRESENT (OF SOME 
PRESSED FLOWERS). 

Dear Laura, to show the undying good wishes 
That Cupid awakes in those caught in his meshes. 
Let me hope that this day mid your life's many hours 
May be like a rose in a garden of flowers. 



teful. 



r 149 ] 



-: * 




r f 



ON A STAMP ALBUM. 

Purchatcd from the author at an accommodation, by t friend. 

As through this world your way you push, 

May you be always just as "flush," 

As when, with open ready hand, 

You helped a "broke," but honest, friend. 

TO MR. AND MRS. MARKLEY, 

With a S-o'clock china tea service on the 30th anniversary .<f 
their wedding. 

For twenty years, through rain aiid shine. 

And ev'ry sort of weather. 
You've plodded up Life's steep incline. 

And faced its foes together. 

By word and deed you've sown good seed; 

And now around you spreading, 
The harvest lies for you to prize. 

On this your china wedding. 

May Peace and Plenty, sov'reign pair. 

Still strive your lot to lighten ; 
May sunny smile of offspring fair 

Your home life ever brighten. 

And with this gift (which, you will see. 

Quite selfishly was chosen) 
Make many a rousing cup of tea, 

And pledge your loving cousin. 

KATY ON "DUDES" 

"Your pet names are awfully good" 
(Said gentleman John, as he wooed) 

"But Katy, my queen, 

"State just what you mean, 
"When you call me your dandiest dude." 
[ 150] 






rieti'l 



»ry til 



Then, with smile that outrivalled the dawn. 
Said cold, cruel Katy to John : 

"A dude is a thing, 

"That girls get in Spring, 
"To hang a chrysanthemum on." 

TO A YOUNG LADY 

Who wa« confined to her room with a very bad attack of boiit. 
Of envious Fate these lines I write, 

Nor care I for her favor; 
She placed my loved one in a pli(>ht, 
Nor reached a hand to save lur. 

The jealous hussy saw the bliss 

I sipped from Celia's smiles; 
And that same hour, to show her power, 

She pestered her with boils. 

But never mind, my day will come,— 

Revenge is always double; 
And when it does, how very rum, 

If boils should be Fate's trouble. 



WRONG END TO. 

"Oh lend me a spade," 

Cried Patrick O'Dade, 

As before me he breathlessly stood; 

'Tim Doyle in a flutter 

"Fell into the gutter, 

"And is up to his ankles in mud." 

But you don't need a spade 

When your partner can wade. 

Said I, almost ready to burst. 

"Sure, how can he wade," 

Pat gasped undismayed, 

"When he's up to his ankles head first?" 

[ 151 ] 



1 





I 



i 

It 



Mm 



WHAT'S IN A NAME? 

They may call her ancient maid; 

Intimate her stale and staid; 

And apply some other terms e'en more distressing. 

But consult her tale of woe; 

And you very soon shall know, 

That she's just an "unappropriated blessing." 

WHIST! HAVE YOU EVER BEEN EUCHRED? 

What matters if from heaven above 

She borrows every grace? 
No wife can hope for perfect love, 

Who trumps her partner's ace. 

EDITORIAL DUTIES. 

The mailboy a letter did bring; 
Around which sweet savors did cling; 

He opened it quick — 

Grew suddenly sick — 
'Twas only a poem on Sprii - 

AT SEA. 

If you across the deep should roam, 
You'll feel upon the flashing foam — 
When first the billows roll and roar — 
A fear of never reaching shore; 
But later on you'll groaning think : 
Oh won't this vessel ever sink? 

SHE WAS ON A BIKE. 

A streak of light — a vision fair— 

A rapid rumbling whirl — 
A figure vanishing in air — 

It was a Summer Girl. 



[ 152 J 



THE FORCE OF HABIT 

Throughout the British Isles a solicitor's charge for attendance 
.s sx shillings and eight pence. That amount, therefore, is the 
most frequent .ten, on a lawyer's bill of costs. A pound, by- 
the-way. is a gold coin valued at twenty shillings. 

A lawyer, 'tis said, in a fit of abstraction. 
Once swallowed a pound-then regretted his action- 
But vain were emetics, for sad to relate- 
To custom warped stomach still clung "six and eight." 

LOVE DEFINED. 

"What is love, did you say?" 

Said a sage growing grey 

In the study of man and his ills; 

"The complaint, when all's heard. 

Is a youth's wish absurd 

To pay a girl's dressmaker bills." 

WHAT MAY HAPPEN 

When our army is recruited from suffragettes. 

"Where," queried the Captain, "is Private O'Grade?" 
■'Confined in the guardroom," quoth Corporal Cade. 
Uh then shes been drinking; where last was she 
dined?" 

"You-re wrong, sir," said Cade, "it's with twins she's 
confined." 



ON THE BACK 

Of a perpetual calendar and almanac. Jan. ;th, '86. 

This almanac will tell the time. 
Long after I have ceased to rhyme. 
But may I still be known to fame 
When it no longer has a name. 

[ 153 ] 



"- iS 




5 ■ 



IRISH HOSPITALITY. 

I've wandered long both near and far, 
On foot, on horse, by boat and car; 
I've supped with cvVy class and clan, 
From highest state to lowest ban; 
But on my ever-varying round. 
This wholesome truth I've always found. 
To stranger guest there's nought so free ' 
As Irish hospitality. 

LINES 

Written afl.r reading Carlyle's "Heroes and Hero Worsl,,,, 
To thee, oh God, this prayer I makr ; 
Oh grant it for Thy mercy's sake: 
For all my tasks and labors here, 
Give me a will and heart sincere. 

AN UNFORl U.VATE 'S LAME.VT. 
Alas ! Alas ! my case is sad indeed 
The thoughts of what I a.n would make a martyr bleed 
1 hat I am lost, unless I quick r. form, 
But makes me worse by heightening my alarm 
My conscience warns, hut woe. alas ! my will 
Is powerless to act where passion leads me still. 

MODEST BUT SINCERE. 
Though many men of hallowed name 

Have raised their tuneful lyre, 
And to its tune have courted fame 

With poet's zeal and tire; 

Vet while such clmose ihc titful muse 
To make their lives seem brighter; 

I'll be content, with Fp.te's consent. 
To be a short-hand writer. 

[ 154 ] 



fc?.i^R!f«fS?.SSWBF-! 



IN MY DIARY. 

This book is a mirror whose leaves retain 
Impressions received from my heart and brain; 
When other friends tire at my tale sincere 
I always am welcome to tell it here. 

A RULE 

For advanced pu,.ils in Isaac Pitman's shorthand. 
When the -f-r- and "ith-r" together close come 

'Lm" '^' *''° ^^" "'' grammalogue 

But should the two ,o«„ds by a vowel W divided, 
Ltt the curve by the grammalogue "for'' be decided. 

ADVICE TO BOOKKEEPERS. 
If you-ld please your "bosses" and save yourself oains 
Vou-11 debit their losses and credit their gains 

0.\E VIEW OF LIFE. 

The world is a wide barren waste, 

Full of misery, want and despair • 
Its inm..tes are travellers spen with unrest, 

i"or hfe is the burden they bear. 

THERE IS .\0 WORLD 

There is no world, I know alas too well ■ 
\\e either sing i„ Heaven or groan in Hell. 

CREATURES OF CIRCUMSTAXCE. 

Though Worth may seem much strength to lend. 
Un Fortune most our hopes depend, 
Things of the moment are we all:' 
By chance we rise, or stand, or fall. 

f 155 ] 



Vi'smm^m^firi 



' iHi 



bJI 



%:■'■ 



\,. 



MISPLACED MERCY 

Let no tender feelings when battling with Passion 
Incline one to leave the grim monster half sped, 

For us, if he rallies, he makes no concession 
But feasts on our vitals until we are dead. 



I 



PROVIDENCE. 

As Time's great cogs are slowly turning 
And youthful hours are fleeting by, 

The goals for which our hearts are yearning 
Seem to retreat at cv'ry sigb. 

And while, with hurried step pursuing. 
Sometimes we stumble on our road. 

Impatiently our ill luck rueing,— 
Behold ! we find 'twas for our good. 

Thus God our way is ever guiding, 
And when we least believe Him near, 

Lo, for our future bliss providing, 
Mid dark despair His ends appear. 

INFINITY. 

A thousand years are but an hour 
To Him who rules the spheres : 

And one short hour to that same power 
Contains a thousand years. 



liA 



IMMEDIATE DESIRE. 

Though the consequence sometimes arouses the will, 
And quenches grim Passion's fierce fire; 

Yet the fear of the future too often fares ill, 
In the rush of immediate desire. 

[ 156 ] 



ivy;* 



'rismm, 



^^tT^T^iT^^ 



ssion 
sped, 
n 



ing 



APPEARANCES ARE DECEPTIVE. 

caned attention r the h nous off :i T^"' 'r'"' "-'""'"^'^ 
bare in the receiving office Thife "gageH ^ "ii^t "" '"'* 
upstairs, the f.,ll„wiM« lines were concXd as a „„H '^'''*""^' 
to l,e handed to would-be clients, w . ' ht be LT'"':' 

Take notice all ye! whom 'tis needful to please: 
Ihaf when you make entry hereto- 

^^''T'!!!'"."!'' "^'''^" "'■" ^"J°y'"« Wank ease. 

And the disks have no papers in view- 
It is not because paying clients are rare • 

Nor that little business here lurks • 
We've a typist above working hard for your love- 
Wot to meMion two real busy clerks. 



PUBLIC ECONOMY. 

While residing in Leicester, England it was .h- , .u . 

Azr"?::;'^th: d^ 'ir-^ ^-r.:'.^^^ -r,: 

but tha it can be uke„ nn "'""'•"" ""'''' "«''* "" d°"'>'- 
^.^^^ can be taken up wrong ,s shown by the following 

A Female Asylum! well that is a wonder' 

One httle step further would prove men grown wise- 

•ace near this a nice Male Asylum-then ponder 
What numbers of Infant Asylums might rise 



will, 



A TRIFLE SHY AS YET. 

"Sweet dreams Oh My Darling." a new woman sang. 
As she stood 'neath the bower of her love- 

grVser'"^' "'"'"^ '"*^ ^"" ^°°*''''''' '''""'"^ 
When his mama looked out from above. 

[ 157 ] 



md 



mill- 



■• W 



THE BABY'S AVERSION TO BLOOMERS. 

Oh mama, dear, since fashion brought 

Those bloomers into style, 
My ncient trusty seat is fraught 

With dangers that beguile. 
Upon your lap no dreadful trap, 

Disturbed my early mien ; 
But now I dare not take a nap 

For fear I'll slip between. 



SHE LOVED WISELY BUT NOT TOO WELL. 

An epicure husband grown thoughtful one day. 

Enquired from the wife of his heart : 
"Since some kinds of mushrooms are poison they say, 

How best can we tell them apart?" 
Then said she who had promised to love and obey 

With a new woman wink in her eye, 
"By eating the mushrooms you'll find a sure way, 

They are poisonous, dear, if you die." 

A PASSING IDEAL. 

Oh, dear to my heart is the girl of my childhood. 
Whose limbs in vile bloomers no loafer could trace ; 

Whose hair was unbleached and who wandered the 
wildwood 
Not marred and unsexed by a bicycle face. 



AN IRONICAL ESCORT. 

"It's too bad to bring you so far from your way ; 

I'm sure I'm obliged," lisped the maid. 
"Don't mention the distance, nor thank me, I pray, 

I'd as soon see you further, " he said. 

f 158 ] 



RS. 



IN THE SOUP. 

In latter days the beardless boy 

Who wants to cut a dash, 
Deludes himself that such a joy 

Must follow a moustache. 
But take advice, unwhiskered youth, 

Nor tempt the graceful droop; 
For soon alas you'll prove this truth : 

It's always in the soup. 



ELL. 

I'. 

ey say, 

obey 



)od, 
race ; 

ed tl:t 



'ay; 
pray 



WOMAN. 

Spite of all his vaunted greatness. 
And his large expansive mind; 

I'or a peer, e'en though he's mate'less, 
Man need not go far to find. 

Woman, yes despotic woman. 
Makes him do whate'er she wills; 

And that she the more may rule him. 
Hides her power in frips and frills! 

FOR SCRIPTURAL REASONS. 
Said Mama to the Dean, 
Whom she caught hugging Jean, 

"How dare you treat Jennie so rude?" 
"Christian sister," said he. 
As devout as could be, 

"I'm holding fast that which is good." 

LET THE HORSES DECIDE. 

This fuss about wimmin-folks ridin' astride 

Seems a very unchivalrous trick- 
U hat matter to man how the dear creatures ride. 

so long as the horses don't kick? 

[ 159 J 




■ . .1' 



PRESENCE OF MIND. 

Once a man close pursued, 
By a bear, sable-hued, 

Seemed in danger of losing his life; 
For he had on the field 
Neither pistol nor shield, 

No: u club, nor a stone, nor a knife. 

But when all thought him lost, 
To old Bruin's sad cost, 

The man in a trice turned about — 
Thrust his hand down its throat — 
Caught its tail ere it smote — 

And pulled the bear inward side oat. 

TO A LANDLADY ON HER BIRTHDAY. 

May all your sorrows, cares and strife, 
And all your many troubles. 

When close examined, prove to be 
But little empty bubbles. 

Rejoice and sing with heartfelt glee 

Some pleasant joyous tune 
On this your yearly jubilee. 

The twenty-ninth of June. 

And may you still with woman's skill 

Each boarder's life beguile; 
Nought makes them half so happy as 

The Mrs.' cheerful smile. 



I: mm i= 



A COUPLET 

Handed to a confrere in a newspaper office who had facetiously 
passed an exchange called "Knowledge" to the author with in- 
structions to get all he could from it. 

You are a generous man indeed, 

To give away what most you need. 

[ 160 ] 



Y. 
fe, 



;etiously 
with in- 



ON A CHRISTMAS CARD 

To a former landlady. Mr,. J. Thurst.,,, Smith, at that timt 
rrsid.ng on Torrance Street, Montreal. 

Though I'm far from Torrance Street 
And the friends that there reside, 

Fortune holds my weary feet, 
And all homeward movements chide. 

Yet I'm con-f rted by knowing 
That their friendship is no myth; 

And a token of that knowledge 
Is this card to Mrs. Smith. 

TO A FRIEND OX HIS 36th BIRTHDAY. 

Old Friend, although I can't portend 

What birthday hopes may do, 
Yet, in good faith, I glad extend 

These hopes sincere to you: 

You now have reached a time in life 

That laughs at foolish fears, 
A point, that sages wise might call. 

The noontide of your years. 

I therefore need not wish you'll be 

Exempt from evil sway; 
You sure won't step from Wisdom's knee 

To follow Fashion's way. 

But may you scale Ambition's height— 

That longed for spot so dear, 
That peak that in man's morning bright 

Stands out so full and clear. 



[ 161 ] 



Mii 



ill* 



May Comfort, too, her mantle warm 
Across your shoulders throw 

May Pleasure lavish every charm 
And ward from every woe. 

And when, at last, old age has changed 
Your locks to flowing white, 

May life with sunset beauties crowned 
Fade off in peaceful night. 



i-i . 



ON AN XMAS CARD 

To a fellow-metnber of a literary society called "The Roscoe. 

Here's to the dear friend I consider my best; 

Without him I fear I'd be lost, oh! 
His worth I have often put hard to the test. 

By pressing him close in the Roscoe. 

I like him, because he is honest and true; 

Because by ill winds he's not tost, oh! 
Because he is one of the well-favored few 

Belonging to famous old Roscoe. 

It's Milligan, upright and just, that I mean; 

And when o'er his body shall moss grow ; 
High up on his tomb this one line should be seen : 

"Here lies the best man in the Roscoe." 

WHAT IS "IT?" A CONUNDRUM. 

Though Dea*h knows it not yet all Life feels its spell ; 
'Tis a stranger to heaven hut common in he//; 
And yet strange to say it is absent from heat; 
While cc/d, when without it, is quite incomplete. 
Watery wastes will not hold it; dry /and shows it plain: 
It's a part of a /ady mere man can't contain : 



r 162 ] 



Miss Large whom I know in the front has this part; 
It s behind on Miss Small in spite of her art ; 
Mrs. Lya/ who is stout, fore and aft, has my ri-ldle- 
And bashful Miss Wa/es has it hid in the middle 
But while each girl has it, whether wished for or not • 
Poor Po//y. my sweetheart, has it twice in one spot 



Roscoe." 
est; 

St, 



TO TOM ROSEBLADE 

With a Wedding Present. 

Dear Tom, please accept this small gift from a friend 
for with it good wishes I also do send; 
May you be so well pleased with your wife aid your lot 
That you'll never be sorry for "tying the knot." 

May the pleasures of life o'er your pathway be spread, 
And may long years of comfort roll over your head 
And when little Roseblades come round you to woiry 
Call one of them after your railroad friend Currie 



1 ; 



seen : 



spell 



: plain : 



LINES INSCRIBED. 

a Z^J'"^U !"' 1" T °' S»"^'^"P«»^«*» work, present..! as 
a parting gift to a friend. 

If you would know your fellow-man, 
Or close his helpmeet woman scan, ' 
Here turn your gaze ; for in these hooks 
Are shown the foibles, whims and crooks. 
The good and ill, the hope and fear. 
That through these lives of ours appear. 
Bear well in mind what Shakespeare says, 
And you will thank him all your days. 



i 



[ 163 ] 




mm 



mmmmmim 



MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TEST CHART 

(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 



1.0 



I.I 



tai2.8 


1^ 




1^ 


S KS 


m 



1.8 




^ /APPLIED IN/MGE Ir 



1653 East Main Street 

Rochester. New York 14609 USA 

(716) *62 -0300- Phone 

(716) 288- 5989 - Fox 



\ 1 






XMAS GREETINGS ON THE BACK OF A 
PHOTOGRAPH. 

H one you'ld view 
Who wishes you 
A merry Christmas tide, 
With health and cheer 
Through all next year: 
Turn to the other side. 




HOW LIFE IS PUNCTUATED. 

This was written for a typewriting friend who had occasionally 
striven to enlighten the author in the trick of punctuat'ng. It 
was an acrostic otj the name of the typewriter's sweetheart. 

Life is but a page of sorrow, 
f'nderscored with grief and woe; 
Leisure moments are its commas 
L'^sed each breathing place to show; 
//opeful half hours, like the periods. 
Only here and there are found; 
W^hile its hours of bliss still scarcer, 
£'en as paragraphs abound. 

THE CURE FOR ALL ILLS. 

A reminiscence of railroading days. 

Though the drivers are skidded, or scorched the 

crown-sheet ; 
Though the journals and big-ends are ruined with 

heat; 
Though the staybolts are leaking, the flues all worn out ; 
Though the engine's a scrap heap without any doubt : 
Like the old wife who doses all patients with pills; 
Our Master Mechanic has one cure for all ills: 
In the roundhouse he carefully notes each complaint 
And prescribes for all ailments a new coat of paint. 

[ 164] 



A ROLLING STONE. 

That a rolling stone gathers no moss 
Is a truth that all ramblers will learn ; 

But while it escapes from the dross- 
It gets polished at every turn. 



ionally 
ig. It 
sart. 



A EUCHRE PLAYER'S SOLILOQUY 

On her lover, whose name was Arthur Hart, and who was 
sometimes called "Art" for short. 

I'm feeling gay and glad at heart, 
I have a hand of unmatched art; 
For hearts are trump and I've a Hart, 
That, though not played quite a la carte. 
Yet takes each trick— then makes me start: 
Because when played 'tis still my Hart. 
Oh Art! Fond artless Art! Thou art 
My Hart, My Deer! My dear, Dear Heart. 



I the 

with 

1 out; 

ubt: 

lills; 



plaint 
aint. 



[ 165 ] 



m 



TENDERFEET IN ALASKA 



OR 



SCARED BY MINER'S YARNS 



A MUSICAL COMEDY 
IN FOUR ACTS 



It 



< , ■■■, 
= :■! 



CHARACTERS. 

Theodore Spoopendike, a New York dude, who be- 
heves he has but to go to Klondike and his superior 
attainments will give him great advantage over ordi- 
nary illiterate miners. He is tall and thin, conceited, 
credulous, dense, somewhat religious, and brave only 
when it is to maintain his idea of his own superior- 
ity. It takes him some time to discover that "the 
lower classes" are not always overwhelmed wit'i the 
honor of his company. Amenable to the most bare- 
faced flattery, ridiculously uninformed about the 
ordinary things of life. It is only in matters of 
dress that he is without a peer. 

Tommy Tompkins, his valet, who is intensely practical 
A short, supple cockney, somewhat modified by 
travel. A type that makes friends everywhere- 
spunky, able to do anything from sing a song to 
lighting a hre; and who finally gets all there is in 
"the Expedition to Klondike." 

Willoughby, alias the Deacon, alias Dick, an old-time 
miner. He is tall and dignified, with a grey mous- 
tache and pointed goatee, and speaks as though butter 
would not melt in his mouth when talking to 
strangers. He never smiles, although an incorrigible 
practical joker. The ease with which he is won by 
Aunt Jemima shows how scarce women are in 
Alaska. 

Snow, alias the Colonel, alias George, alias the trage- 
dian, a frequent combination in Alaska. Mercurial 
m disposition, medium sized, clean shaven, well edu- 
cated, and a good mimic. His stories are always 
»ff, ^^\ correct dialect. An old-time miner and 
WiUoughby's partner. 

Slim^ Jim, dho a very comr .n type in a mining camp. 
A typical daredevil Western saloon-keeper— blunt 
coarse, swaggering, a very terror to conceit, who 
IS spare and gaurt looking, swears like a trooper and 
chews tobacco incessantly. 

Captain Rudlin, a fat, round-faced old sea dog, with a 
muffler of white hair reaching under his chin from 
ear to ear. The essence of kindness and good nature. 

[ 169 ] 



\(- 



In. 'i^ 



(i 



Isabel Lovejoy, in love with Theodore. A sentimental 
butterfly creature from Boston— just such a one a; 
would fall in love with a Theodore. 

Aunt Jemima, a New England woman who looks an( 
acts like an interrogation point. Tall, somewhai 
deaf, ver\ practical, and talks noticeably through hei 
nose. Isabel's Chaperon. 

Starlitz, below medium height, stout, goodlooking, easilj 
captivated, like all Alaska native women, and alsc 
like her race, a trifle bowlegged, which adds to tin 
comedy of her dancing. 

Miners, Sailors, Waiters, Tourists and Indians. 



ACT I— ALL ABOARD FOR KLONDIKE. 

Scene 1 — Tne Captain's Cabin on board ship. 
Scene 2 — The Social Room. 
Scene 3 — The Dining Room. 
Scene 4 — On Deck at Wharf. 

ACT II— AMONG THE PHILISTINES. 

Scene 1 — Slim Jim's Saloon at Juneau. 
Scene 2— Dance Hall off Saloon. 

ACT III— STILL AMONG PHILISTINES. 

Scene 1 — In Woods near Juneau. 
Scene 2 — Shore near Juneau. 
Scene 3— Willoughby's Camp. 

ACT IV— EN ROUTE FOR HOME. 

Scene 1— Shore of Takoo Inlet. 
Scene 2— Theodore's Camp. 
Scene 3 — Back on Board Ship. 



[ 170] 



timental, 
I one as 

oks and 
unewhat 
•ugh her 

g, easily 
ind also 
s to the 



KE. 



ES. 






ACT I~ALL ABOARD FOR KLONDIKE. 
Scene I. 
Captain Rudlin— (Discovered in easy posture in his 

t?/!!""*' R^^'^'^- , ^*'" «°°" ^« at Juneau. 

Willoughby— Can't be thar any too soon for me Cao 
I m anxious to get back with the boys ag'in. I ain't 
used to the stuckup ways of your starched front city 
lite. Uive me a good rousui' camp everytime 

lasl" Dea"c"^n?°* '°"*^ '" '* ''"" ^°" ^"^ ^'^ '^"«<^° 
IViUoughby-mgh on to thirty years. Cap. I don't 
beheve I ve been so fur south since the sixties. I re- 
member gomg to winter thar just after the second 

from 'th^e'^nM^f •*'"'""> •'"^ ^''^ P'^" had changed so 
from the old free and easy days that I never went 

.ntnl"^'I~J *^°-'* H**"* y°"' ^^^*^- A man who has 
spent his dap m the mountains is something like a 
sailor he aint no account in a town anyhow. He's dead 
Rohin^nJr'f.' '^'' reckoning, and before he can say Jack 

SLJ a .nnH^'%''*^^"?,/?^'-^^^^ '^ unless he's 
married. A good wife will keep any man straight 

crowdT '"'"• '^^''' ^° ^°" ^'^'"'^ °* th« KloXe 

IVilloughby-Moths. Cap;-a ship load of feather- 

weights-and they'll leave the Land of the Mfdnight 

trJ" U ^^*r°."'l!'' ''""^ *i*l^ their wings terHbly 
( \u \T-^ "^9" t have some blizzards of misery be- 
fore the Winter's out. I'll sell old "Yellow Bdfy'' for 
weerit's mV lfj/'^^'^.<i .^^000 for the S last 
week. Its my candid conviction thar ain't ten men " 
mn''T.cLT*^' ^^'^'^ *heir grubstake. Why eJer. 
Whoever he.rT 7"" gaiters and ^ standup"^ collar 
vvno ever heard of a man with his head and feet in 
corals expectm' to pan out gold? But the boys will have 
S '':°'' °"* °^ *hem at all events even f they do 
thelrVaT *° ''"* "^ '^' ''''^ *° ^^"^ them home to 
honeffitrt?^' "J?' ^hat do you think of the young 

mfoZ't T'J^iri^'' ''J'P *'*h the valet, I mean ? 

yymougHby—A milk.sop from away back He'll he 
an ornament to the diggins. If it wasn't for his clothes 

[ 171 ] 



M.rt» 



% 




and that same little valet, he'd fall to pieces. I 
been havin' my after dinner lau^h at him every i 
since we left the Sound. Why, jt was only today 
asked me if I put any stock in that story about < 
frozen city being inhabited — you've heard the yai 
'bout the frozen city and lie floating island, haven't yc 

Captain — That 1 have. Ha! ha! Some of Mii 
iJruce's guff, when he got among some too credulc 
newspaper men, ha ! ha ! 

Willougliby — Well, you see the swell has got hold 
the stories, and can credit everything but the inhabit; 
part of the frozen city. He h'.s a theory, he sa 
that the floating island is the same one — don't > 
know — seen by a great explorer of the last centu 
named Gulliver^^^on't you know — " but he can"', 
count for frozen people being alive 

Captain — And what did -ou say, Dick? I'll warr; 
you kept ut> your reputation. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

IVilloughby — He didn't prove anything by me, C 
You can bet your bottom dollar on that. I told hii: 
was with Bruce at the time he saw the phenomena. 

Captain — Ha! ha! And did you say he would 
likely to see it himself on his v/ay to Klondike? 

Willoughby — No, Cap. I try never to volunteer a 
information to strangers, it looks too much like lyi 
I simply used the old dodge of answering all his qu 
tions in the affirmative. You see it's professional hoi 
with us miners not .o have any person 'eave the coun 
disappointed. Now it stands to reason that if a ni 
finds out something he has read is not according 
Hoyle, it has a tendency in that direction. 

Captain — Ha ! ha ! I like that expression "professioi 
honor," Deacon. It covers a multitude of practi 
jokes and some of the toughest yarns I've ever hea 
I suppose you would call the "Salting" of the Bea 
Nest professional honor tc^ That was a scurvy tri 
Dick. No matter how you look at it. The idea 
inducing those German capitalists to sink a million 
a plant and impiovements only to find, when they ca 
to use them, that tY ^ whole thing was a hoax. That v 
going too far — too far altogether. As the Irishrn 
says "Oi can take a j ok as well as any man, but wh 
an undhertaker comes io my back window and sinj 
'Oim waitin', my darlinf, for thee,' that's going too fa 

IVilloughby — No ; that wasn't square, I'll admit. I 
the man who had most to do with the Bear's N 
swindle was no common land lubber but a man of yc 
profession. You know who I meanP If he hadn't h 

[ 172 ] 



i 



a r interest in the claim no one else -ould have 
procured so much unmilled ore from Trtadwell's Any- 
way. I serves the German Company right fo i^ndhL 
up uch a greeny as an expert. Any fool should havf 
",mdt a rat when the rock came out of the bosus shaft 
w.th so little trouble. But it's the way o. the wo^'^ 
No man. be he rich or poor; young or old ; mossback 
or tenderfoot; educated or uneducated can DrooeHv 
reah.e a truth till he's been bitten. The only difteTence 
betwee.i men. ,n my opinion-you can take it for what 

zr.::X:r. '''' °"^ ^°°> '^^^ '^^ ^- his' exp°:ri:;c^i 

^,".t''^'"--Jruc, oh king. Ha! ha! 
t fllouyhby-\ow. Cap. if I was the hard-hearted 
villain you take me for. I might have had a fing" in 
a uorse o>e than the Bear's Nest Ust Spring I U^ 

Li/"" f-T.r ^"8"^'' Syndicate enclosfng ! vrH 
pectus winch they wanted me to report on before thev 

sS?h of VTr?.k P.i;°f ^=' '' ^^ formed on'te 
•iml ft V^f nil V^?"^ 'u^' prospectus through, Cap. 

who wrote it tid't 7^f ?^" imagination the man 
WHO wrote it had. It told about an Eldon do beina 
discovered that put Treadwell's in the shade It tSd 
how Western capitalists had at once bought un tne 

site iiearb}. at a fabulous expense. It told ot a river 
.e.ng dammed for power and of ev.rjSiing bHnc fn 

le t'L; of i7'l/^' "^f °SPO""di"« ouTloId Ve 
nest pa,, of it all was, that the ocation was so rnr,. 
fully desc.:hed that by the holy smoke I had to go and 
ook to convince myself it wasn't so. Tha? was a 
sna.l stream thar. to be sure, but that was all 

<.*;lf_&-,- ?,' 4;?'- ■" N'jw York? 

»',vdv Vt I ""," '"'"" '."''« '° •><> about ''■ 

!„if . \:"'"'y "cuse this communication from a strancror 

I:aIs^'J'rv\"S, ^:tT.f ^''^ ->;,-",. Theore,\:s"aTn 
dike It c -^"1"^ Steamer for Alaska, enroute for Klon- 

mvsel £t'he tak'eslhislt''^ "i^'^^^ f i^'^ mother and 
"lai ne takes this step and we feel confident that 

[ 173 ] 



f AMi 



\ i 



■ 






I 111 



he is unable to undertake the fatigue necessary to i 
successful carryinflt out of his visionary project, 
have been making him an allowance of $10,OUO a y 
(which 1 thought ample for the ordmary expenses 
a young man 23 years old), but he uisjsts upon 
being a niggardly allotment and wilfully disobeyed 
express commands in order to materially increase 
income. He has been used to society life and as 
only heir has been flattered into believing himseli 
person of extraordinary attainments. His mother 
not strong and is worrying herself to such an ext 
that I feel constrained to offer you anything in rea 
if you can succeed in inducing the boy to forego 

absurd plans. . • .• i . 

"Trusting that this letter may arrive in time and t 
you will prove more persuasive with the young ii 
than those who have his best interests at heart, in sj 
of his disobedience, I am, etc. Theodore Spoopendyl 

Captain— h ain't a question of money, you see. 
mother wired before 1 left the Sound to spare no 
pense in the matter but to send her boy home safe at 
hazards. I've reasoned with the young man, but 
found out I was authorized by his father and so tin 
that all 1 say is a put-up job. 

Willougltby—l can understand that, too, because 
been painting the country up to him in the most i 
hue. H you had told me earlier. Cap, la have sci 
him from ever leaving the ship. 

Captain— I believe you, Dick. It would not be 
first youth you've scared out of a year's growth — - 
you always look so serious that not a one r il 
suspects you. But I thought to let this o .e do^n < 
and when I found his sweetheart was aboard a 
tourist, I imagined I could bribe her i..to doing so 
thing with him. But she's just his fit to a nice 
another edition of himself in feminine garb— an 
have given up hopes in her direction. She means a 
but doesn't know enough to pound sand. 

Willoughby— Has he much of an outfit? 

Captain— An outfit. Well I say he has. There r 
be a ton of stuflf aboard that he calls outfit and i 
itself is proof sufficient of his utter ignorance of 
condition that awaits: him. , . , , ... 

JVilLughby—WaW, since thar's a fair days pickii 
it I'll undertake to have the kid back with you on : 
return trip helow— valet, outfit, and all. In the m 
time you cheer him up, set him on to me ofthand 
as an experienced miner, and leave the rest to y 

[ 174] 



ary to the 

iroject. I 

XX) a year 

cpenses of 

i upuii u- 

jbeyeU t: y 

icrease I.h 

itid as ii:\ 

himself a 

mother i^ 

an extc.it 

in reason 

forego Ills 

te and that 
roung man 
irt, in spite 
opendykf ■ 
i see. The 
are no ex- 
: safe at all 
an, but he 
d so thinks 

ecause I ve 

most rosy 

lave scared 

not be the 
3Wth — And 
le c iheni 

do An easy 
board as a 
loing soine- 

a nicety— 
arb— and I 
means well, 



There must g 
it and it in I i 
ance of the 

's pickin' in 
^•ou on your 
1 the mean- 
oflfhand-like 
:st to y-r.fs 



ea" "^ Ctn We'tT" ^"* *!'.'^ ^'"^'^ leering to th. 

on h1'S"earT;'';tMnn rD?acon"^*\^;'^ '"'"-■. «« 
hin. sit at ^,>^abIe amrwin^mrodu e^Je'^Xc^^therV 

(Exeunt talking). 
Scene II. 

Theedy, dear, do you love me? >''^^"^^r) 

su/h'^'res^int''' ""' '^"'•"«' ^°- -" • awsk mc 

Jf!!^'~^ *^°"«^* y^'" ^'''' Theedy, since you have 
told n so, so many times; But iear Ho n^* k 
hpr;iii««i . !»•>»» »_ L. '"^''' "'**■! jear, do not be anirrv 

/Jte S"" '£ ""J'"''' of this ship. '^ ' 

clawling. Lr your sTke hl^°/°\^ thousand favors, 
the gold-fipi;u v«c "^^^ ^ determined to go to 

s„!rs/-^*odSr..' ana " '"' - 'i^' 

niav possibly awsk " °" ^'''" ^"^ ^^^^^ yo" 

wh:?Yt;^;J,^-tp7arof°7 h?"'^-^''^;.'^ ^-^ 

Ri>dlin that I wou d use n,v i.fl ^""^ Promised Captain 
going to KlonZe ^ >nfluence to keep you from 

Ru^fn thrSr.'?he"'/f '^'' '*/t"°* ^'^ l'"* Captain 
wno wants the favor and I am quite sure his 

r 175 ] 





m' 




If f 






desire comes from my fawther, whose beastly in 
significant allowance of $10,000 a year to a gentlema 
of my many needs, don't you know, has kept us apai 
so long. No, indeed, I will stand it no longer I wi 
go to the mines and with my superior attainments 
will only be a few short weeks before I will be bac 
to lead you to the altar, and then, don't you know, w 
shall live happy ever after. 
Isabel— (Who in her admiration forgets her request 

How nice ! 

Theodore— Yes, dawling. Why it was only the otht 
day 1 read about a menial fellow— an Irishman, don 
you know — whose hair was red as a beet, the papt 
said,— and who like as not chewed tobacco, ate onioi 
and all sorts of other vulgar things, don't you know 
and this creature, would you believe it, actually mac 
$75,000 in one Winter. Now dawling, with these fac 
in mind is it not probable that with my accomplishmen 
and aristocratic breeding I can do ten times better tlia 
that, to say the least? 

Isabel— 01 course you can, Theedy. How jolly it wi 
be to do nothing all day but just pick up gold. Sa 
Theedy, wouldn't it be nice if 1 went along. I lia\ 
my bloomers. I brought them to climb the mountain 
you know, and we could telegraph for a bicycle bui 
for two as soon as we pet ashore. 

Theodore— But, dawling, don't you know these min( 
are in a Bwitish country and there would be a douh 
duty on a bicycle of that kind. 

Isabel — How wise you are, Theedy. Isn't it funny 
never thought of that — and Aunt Jemima wouldn't he: 
of me going anyway. But, Theedy dear, must I wa 
all Winter for you? 

Theodore— ^ot if I know it, dawling. I have pn 
vided against every hazard. I have even procured 
valet who was born in London to speak the — ah — tli 
lect of the Bwitishers, so that I think a month at tl 
most will see me back to your loving arms. 

Isabel — How nice ! 

Theodore— Yes, dawling, as I said before, I have nia( 
a careful study of the matter. Indeed I spent two who 
afternoons makmg inquiries, don't you know, in ord 
that we may not be apart one moment longer than 
necessary. I have even purchased one of those ca: 
registers so that I may know when I have enouj 
without having to take time to count it. 

Isabel— Oh, Theedy, you are so wise. Is it any wo 

[ 176 ] 



der that I lovt you. But, Theedy dear, the Caotain 
said It was cold in the Klondike ^piam 

^/'f'^^^f'-'J-yes, dawling, I found that out while read- 
ing al.out the frozen city, and so I have as a part of my 
outht a gas stove htted up with a heating drum and 
all modern improvements. 

Isabel-Do you know, Theedy dear, whenever I think 
hovv wise you are, I wonder if you ever take anything to 
cool your brain. I read in the Ladies Home Joufnal 
once that cold water applied to the foreheads of men 
who think a lot has a soothing effect, and when we are 
married I am going to put some on you. Can I, dear.' 

7 heodore— Yes, dawlmg. 

^/^^l"!! i'"''l""- ^Entering with spectacles on and in 
great haste) Iz^y-lzzy. Oh. my sakcs alive, child, where 
have you been? Don't you know you should never go 
anywhere without your chaperon? (pronounced with a 
strong New England nasal twang hat makes the last 
word sound like "Chap around ") 

dy£ '''~^^'' ^""*'^-^ have been with Mr. Spoopen- 

/Itiiit Jemima — Haow? 

Isabel— Mr. Spoopendyke 
\'l""/ •^^"'""'-i^ew tell. How blind I do be gitting 
\ou dew keep agrowing, Theedy. I see a changi since 
you came aboard. You'll soon be a man, won^t you ? 
and"thTv Z"' "h I'" '' '"^l'""^'^ lamented Hezekfah. 
P ctre^of TJnH^ '^ '^^ as how Hezekiah wuz a living 

(LooEng^^ow^ard^ ,fZ.) ^"^' ^'^^^'^' ^^ ^^ ^-«' 

(in'dtnantlyT^'' ""^' "''^"- ^"'^^^'^ "«*• '— 

,^uut Jemima— Haow? I didn't ketch vou Dew 

Skifrdir '°"'' '' ' '-'' '-- -^ '- well s?nc^ 

Jollf^; ''?'"'^'' '^' '^ f^°'" the countryia^J couiury 
folks are always so cranky. We must amuse her some- 

wa?rmusi7S'"- ^ ^° "°* %"^' ^"t "^y "^w valet 
anu-se jou ''"^" °""' ^ ^'" ^""^ ^im in to 

WhSe'he^iJ'lm.'/A'^ r'T"'" w'**^ '^^'"'"y Tompkins, 
when she ''/""V"^""* ■'•^'"""^ continues talking and 

iLr J« • ^' T?"""^ •'. ^^^'•d •" the wings.) 
In New ISryrK^^"' sing^why how%hift.e,s. 
i\ew England the boys and girls all sing like tops 

[ 177 ] 



Come to think of it— it wuz at singin' skule tha 
first met Hezekiah. 

THE OLDTIME SINGING SCHOOT. 



^} 



iii 



As my brow begins to furrow, 

And my thinning hair grows white; 
As my ears begin to fail me 

And I slowly lose my sight : 
In the quiet of the shadows 

As the passion fires grow cool, 
I recall my youthful pleasures 

At the oldtime singing school. 

The oldtime singing school 

The oldtime singing school 
The happy days of innocence 
At the oldtime singing school 

Where guileless love and music sweet 
Were measured out by rule 
At the oldtime singing school 
The oldtime singing school. 

Do— Me— Sol— Do 
Do— Sol— Me— Do 
At the oldtime singing school. 

The master and his tuning fork 

I see in memory's view 
Assume his old position 

At the village school I knew; 
While round about with laughing hearts 

(Our lips his ready tool) 
The lads and lasses raised the tune 

At the oldtime singing school. 

To sing — to live — to love we aimed. 

To love and live and sing 
Old fogy care was banished quite — 

[ 178 ] 



Life had a joyous ring. 
And lessons over home we walked 

In pairs that knew no dool ; 
Till night was like a day in June— 

At the oldtime singing school. 

Tommy— (Speaking as he comes in.) Were is Vr 
Ryal Nibs I'm not much of a bird nowadays, as you 
wi! soon know, Guv.; but since hit's bread and butter 
L^ "am ^" ^ P'"^ °^c"°* fi8ht»"' ^'th wot I 'a to 
the klnnJjl,l7 v' "'• ^^^^ ^'" ^ ^'"» ^hat song abou^ 
the Klondike? Yer can jine in the chorus if yer likes 
(Starts o sing) "Oh won't we cut a 'owline dash " 

whti/thatTe^i?""""" ''" °"^^ ''''' ^' '^•^•'^• 

mv^df '"d^nV^' n ^"^'^^^^if '% ^ ^°'-«°t t° introduce 
myselt didnt I? W'y, I'm Tommy Tomokins h^e 

quire, ate of Puddin 'ead Court. U>nion^Henkland' 
formerly a music 'all singer, but now chief shoe fhiner 
and air brusher to 'is 'ighness. the Guvnor, 'ere 
Aunt Jemtma— Dew tell! v^uvnur. ere. 

rowmy— (Mistaking this term of wonder as a re- 
quest o repeat) Certainly. Tommy Tompkins hes- 
quire, late of Puddin 'ead Court, Londr^Hengland 

(f meat vale^r^ >"- r«"T"°w chief' shoeshin"er 
U means valet) to is 'ighness 'ere. I've come to simr 

ofVmisS'anH^''' ''•'°?'''^% <"^'"^ «" ^^^ ^"^""f 

oi omission and commission of a cocknev to the old 
ladys complete bewilderment.) ^ 

Aunt Jemima — Dew tell ' 

if ^.^Tcr^'l'if^^'-^'? ^^^y' ^^^ ^o"« wi» tell itself- 
duffe? itf Ei.'^-^-t-ely. ^.irf.-Wot a curious ole 

littt"cHt?errp:7k-G^erS7"''^* '^"^"^^^ ^°" '"^^^ 
Isabel— No Auntie; he's a Britisher He talks th^ 
language of. the natives at Klondike ' ^^^ 

teUhlf*""'"'T^^7' *^"' Well, if he's going to sing 
he^a'd'therf '°"'' '° "^ '' ' '^^" ""^"^^^^ ^ ^"^^ 

A^':^r^^^'^T '"^"^ -'^' 

hulirZu^ee ^anH"'{ '"'"^ ^''''- "'^'5 "^^ ^^^^ hand 

with-won'^io^it^ Tctr^rth?:a?.r" ^^'^^^-^ 

[ 179] 



w 



\1 





WHEN WE COME BACK FROM KLONDIKE. 

Oh won't we cut a howling dash? 
Issy — When ? 

When we come back from Klondike. 
The world will have a plague of cash ; 
Theedy — When ? 

When we come back from Klondike. 
No more will strikers "win or die," 
The Socialists will cease to sigh, 
For gold like Summer dust will fly — 
Aunt Jemima — When? 

When we come back from Klondike. 
i 

There'll be no "cops" to interfere, 

When we cone back from Klondike. 
They'll all be counting out their gear, 

When we come back from Klondike. 
The drinking fountains, free as air. 
Upon demand will sparkle clear 
With bovril, lemonade or beer: 

When we come back from Klondike. 

No longer will fair ladies' hats 
When we come back from Klondike. 

At theatres cause untold spats 

When we come back from Klondike. 

We'll stop all hindrance to man's ease. 

Skirts then will scorn to climb the l.reeze; 

E'en pants will cease to bag at knees — 
When we come back from Klondike. 

We'll double Wolseley's awkward squads, 
When we come back from Klondike. 

By giving soldiers larger wads — 
When wc come back from Klondike. 



[ 180 ] 



S fM 



When mud the streets of London clogs, 
And they arc like fam'd Irish bogs, 
To hide them we'll IMPORT some fogs— 
When we come back from Klondike. 

We'll see that Cupid's darts are greased 
When we come back from Klondike. 
And that his victims are increased 

When we come back from Klondike. 
On straitened lovers who would wed 
But have not where tc lay their head 
Wealth's happy sunshine we will shed 
When we come back from Klondike. 

This being a topical song, it is anticipaled that verses to suit 
local conditions will be inserted. 

(One of the listeners puts in the interrogation. When! 
at the end of each line to be answered ns in first verse.) 

4""^ Jemima— Why, Izzy, some ot that sounds like 
Lnited States, \oung man, be you able to understand 
what 1 say? 

Totiimy— Oh yes. Missis, I can understand everythink. 

AiDtt Jemima — Haow? 

(This exclamation is Yankee for "What do you say?" 
but Tommy misunderstands and savs:) 

Tommy— \Yy by listening, of course. 

1 lieodore—iWho has been enjoying a tete-a-tete with 
Isabel) That's right, Tommy, keep the old lady in- 
terested, you Tcnow. 

Aunt Jemima — Haow? 

Towmy— That's wot I'd like to know. (Gong sounds 
for dmner) But there's the bell for 'ash. I'm hoflF. 

Exeunt. 

Scene III. 

Ca/'/a/;i— (Discovered at head of dinmg table arcnnd 
which all characters so far introduced with as many 
others are seated.) Well, Mr. Spoopendike, are you still 
determined upon facing the difficulties of the interior? 

1 lie adore— Quiit determined. Captain, don't you 
know; of course I am very grateful to you for your 
repeated warnmgs, but— don't you know— we look at 
matters from entirely different standpoints. I have 

[ 181 ] 



■ill 



\ 





,1, 1 



long been convinced of the fact that a college educatio 
and the advantages of having mingled with the highe 
classes in early life are everything that is necessary i 
any undertaking. 

Captain— WcU, if sticking to one's ideas in spite o 
the devil is a virtue, you are the most virtuous youu 
man I've ever sailed with. By-the-way, Mr Willoughb} 
here, is a miner of many years' experience. He's bee 
p miner ever since I came to the coast— and I ain't n 
tenderfoot, am I Dick? 

Willoughby — I reckon not. 

Towimy— Wot's a tenderfoot, Cap'n? 

Captain— -Wlhy, that's rather a peculiar questior 
When you've been going to and fro among mmers a 
long as I have, you won't ask such questions, else you'r 
liable to get bitten. Supposin', however, that I answe 
by saying "you're a tenderfoot," there'll be no ham 
done and youT be that much the wiser, eh, Dick? Ha 
ha! 

Willoughby — You've missed your calling. Cap, yoi 
should have been a diplomat. 

Captain — I j'pose so. But when you come to think o 
it, everyone that asks that question is a tenderfoot b' 
foregone conclusion — But coming back to the subjeci 
Mr. Spoopendike, I would use this opportunity o 
recommending Mr. Willoughbv as a thoroughly practi 
cal man. What he doesn't know about the Klondik( 
country ain't worth knowing. 

Theodore—Yes, so I learned incidentally, don't yoi 
know. (Patronizingly) I have been quite pleased U 
find that he does know a good deal about the country 

JVilloughby — I'm so glad to hear you say so, Mr 
Spoopendike. Indeed it gives me courage to ask th< 
favor of being allow d to travel near you into ''( 
Yukon. By this condescension I shall have the oriviki;* 
of enjoying your discourse and at the same time we wil 
be able to confer on any matters that may come up a; 
a precaution for mutual safely. 

Isabel— (aside to Theodore) Oh Theedy, what j 
nice man he is. 

Willoughby— Oi course I would not think of asking 
this favor for nothing and shall endeavor to be youi 
guide over such parts of the country as may have es- 
caped your attention. (Winks at Captain.) 

Theodore— Kvi Deah, I am a thousand times obliged 
Mr. Willoughby, for your Jdnd offer— don't you know- 
and shall have no objection whatever to your remaining 
near my camp. But you see I studied geography quite 

[ 182] 



you 



extensively at college and have with me a very reliable 
map of the country. 

H^illoug/tby—lndeQd ! Is it one of those printed 
since the scare began? 

rArodor^-Oh my no. Not at all. I looked out for 
that. It was published at least 20 years ago and like 
okl wme— dont you know— has the inestimable ad- 
vantage of (je. 

C"ptam~){ our map has the advantage of age. has it' 

nat a bright young man you are, to be sure. Ha ! ha ! 

/jafcf/— Oh Captam, you don't know him yet. I'm 
real proud of him— indeed I am 

IVilloughby— But, Mr. Spoopendike, you may need 
some assistance in dealing with the natives. My lona 
experience among them is at your disposal. 

/ heodore— Your kindness overwhelms me, but— don't 
you know-I have been careful in that particular also; 
and my valet, here, is a Bwitisher. 

Tflm niy~Right you are. Guvnor. 

IVilloughby— But Indians are not alwavs Britishers. 

JAfodor^— (somewhat surprised) Then there are 
Indians in the country? 

miloughby-Yes, a chap is liable to run up against 
one or two when his gun ain't loaded. 

Isabel— Oh Theedy, hadn't you better not go. They 
may scalp you, or something. "^ 

Theodjre-Have no fear on t..„c score. I have a 
comp.ete cowboy's outht and I will exterminate the race 
if they interfere with my plans. 

/jafcf/— (admiringly) The women too? 

Theodore-No IMI leave the women and children 
for Tommy to deal with i-mturcn 

Tommy ?"~"^' ^^- "^^^^ ^^^' ^^^ ^° ^^^ ^o that, 
^/.'''""'^T-Since hit's my bread hand butter there hain't 

n'r, ^^^•^'" "^^^^ wot I as to heat. 
the .uTfU^r'^}f^ obedience for you. Cap. That's 
lass sJlnr J^'^*' "' made of. He'd make a first- 
siaughteJ'^of inno?ent7 """"' "'^ °' '^^'^'"^ ^' *'^« 

I heVfr?fiiT~J^^PV ^-^ '".^*=^^' the boy is innocent, 
hnv ic i5 ^^^^,°l hearme, but it appears to me the 

f ca Ic'laTe ;r.^. "'' '^''? ,3"!?,'^ ^^^'^ of United States 

mnrt .! ^^" soon talk like a book. He's most as 

S? met hS' 'a^iented Hezekiah wuz when I 

S''"£i^^"~'^¥.? ^'^^ ^^^'^ ^"" married. Miss? 
■"lunt Jemtma-iGrowmg confidential at the flattery) 

[ 133 ] 



If 



»°lj . i. 




1 .! -'f,» ■■,- 






Ah yes. It's nigh on five and twenty years since 
dear Hezekiah was called away. (Tears.) 

Willoughby — Indeed, my good lady, I would ne 
have known you were that old. You keep your ; 
wonderfully. You are from iMass.T.-ihusetts, ain't yc 

Aunt Jemima — Yes, kind sir — forty miles from B 
ton, as the crow flies. Ochone I 

Willoughby — I thousht so when I saw >oU on dc 
I'm right glad to meet you, even though we must p 
so soon. I never saw a person from Massachusetts 
that didn't make me think my time had come to go b; 
to the old homestead, especially if that person is 
attractive lady like you. But, changing the subject, ]1 
Spoopendikc am I to understand that my services 
guide and Indian interpreter are accepted? 

Theodore -(patronizingly) Well, really, Mr. \\ 
loughby, I do not wish to encumber myself with nn 
persons than I can conveniently protect — but since 
Indian question has come up and I an. ignorant 
their dialect, probably it would be as well — don't \ 
know — to have someone along who can tell them w 
will happen if they raise any disturbance. 

'sabel — I can speak Italian, if that is what they tall 
you know I would so like to come with you, Thee 
Is that the language they speak, Mr. Willoughby? 

Willoughby — Well no. Miss. It tain't exactly a 1; 
^uage they speak — it's more of a jargon — ^the Chine 
jargon we call it. 

Isabel — "Chinook jargon." How odd it sounds. 1 
sure it must be very sentimental. 

Willoughby — No more than necessary. At least 
Government Agent didn't think so when he came up 
flatter the Siwashes into giving away some of tli 
rights. Eh, Cap? 

Captain — Not very — No. 

Isabel — Oh, do tell us about it, Mr. Willoughby. 

Willoughby — Thar ain't nothin' much to tell. 1 
agent got the Indians together and started out bol 
into the old sentimental standby: ''Children of 
Forest." The interoreter translated it carefully, ? 
that was all the agent had a chance to say, in con 
quence. 

Isabel — Why, what do you mean, Mr. Willoughl 

Willoughby — I mean what I say. Miss. You see 
only way "children of the forest" could be translated ii 
Chinook was to say, "Little men among the big stick 
and that wasn't the way Siwashes cared to be address 

Captain — They weren't much to blame, either. I 

[ 184] 



since my 

mid never 
your age 
ain't yun - 
from Bu- 

1 on clerk 
must part 
busetts yci 
to go b;nk 
rson is an 
ibject, Mr 
iervices a^ 

Mr. \\\\- 
with more 
: since tli'- 
rnorant of 
-don't yini 
them what 

they talk— 
Li, Theedy. 
ighby ? 
:tly a lar,- 
e Chinook 



unds. 



Ill 



t least the 
:ame up to 
e of tlicir 



ughby. 
tell. The 
out boldly 
in of the 
jfully, and 
in coiise- 

'illonghhy? 
ou see tht 
islated into 
lig sticks ;" 
addressed. 
ther. But 



We are likely to 

arou ' ) 
a little, don't you 



! m glad you have decided to let the Deacon accompany 
you, Mr. Spoopendike-for your mutual safet,. eh 
Uick.' It IS just possible the Indians could not discern 
at once your college education and superior raising— or 
v\orse still, they might ma..e the mistake the little- girl 
di.vv.cn she w^as m the forecastle with her mama 

II illau(/lihy~\\ hut was that. Cap' 

t<;/'/.n«-ilavcn't you l.eanl the yarn. mate. Why 

fU yj/ "\ '''i''' ''-'";'' »V1'P'-''><^^J to c.me along and 
tie little g.rl whispered to her mama: "Oh mamaV look 
a the men ! 1 he mama shook her little spring off in a 
chiding sort of way and said. "Hush darling, those are 
only common sailors." There was a distinct pause fo5 
a .11 me.u m winch you could have heard a bed tick 
when suddenly tl.v.; silence was broken by the little one's 
v'oice saving: "Well, they look like men, don't they 

,, , , (Laughter) 

but here we are at Takoo Inlet 
have a pleasant little swell 

Isabel— A li tic swell? 

(Sig.is of seasickness all 
know h"';^'^'''^ vessel does woll .. .u,.c. uon r you 
know. By-the-way, will you excuse me, gentlemen 
(signs of subdued seasickness) 8^ uicmcn 

II illou'jliby— (winking at Captain) Then I am en 
pedftio.?? ''"'''•P'"*^^" °f ^he Spoopendike-KIondik^ ex- 

flicodjrc— Certainly (hand to mouth). 

njUouylthy-Don't hurry off, Mr. Spoopendike. Here 
have soiiie more of this fat gravy. Let's be sociable' 
setM.ig It s our last meal aboard. sociable, 

hini )'' VvX7v''l?;r''"^ '°T ^^' I^^'* ^•^'*' ^ho detains 
mm.) Ueally, gentlemen. I am sorry but 1 must 

5"n& bnt°^ W?" — k' '^.^' <^''°'^"^ symptoms )Teg 

synptoms) ah nTiig^f d^^;!. txcT^; m^e'^vILir'"' 
, , , „, , . (Exit in ha.ste) 

Capt'ain ~ ''"' '""'^^ '' ''°"'^- ^^•^ '» ^o"" ^^ over. 

Cal^taiu-Why, I thought you had your sea lees on 

o nnke?'JooVl°rf ''\ ' thought^ou Zlfoins 

han''trd;2f\ ."* ^'" "°'' ^- ^- ^'^ ^^alf swallowing 
ii.iiKiKtren.et ) excuse me. * 

^u'U Avmma-Izzy-Izzy, come back here. How dare 

r 185 ] 



'tl 



l.i^ 




you leave your Aunt in such a tomboy manner — and 
so sick, tew. Oh— Oli— Oh if Hezekiah were oi 
here. 

IV illoughby— Can I assist you, my dear lady? 

Aunt Jemima — If you'll be so kind, sir. 

(Willoughby helps her to gangway, where a wai 
takes her in charge.) 

jTow/My— Well I s pose I bought to go and 'elp I 
Guvnor secure 'is night dress. Ha! ha! 'e 'as 'ei 
of money and 'e 'ired me to take care of 'ini, sd 
must be hoff. Upoii my word hit's almost enough 
make a man a socialist : this is. 'eres 'im as doesn't 
anythink in the world but cut a dash an i he g 
$10,000 a year for his trouble ; and 'eres me as dc 
every bit as much — in fact i docs more, for I dres: 
'im and myself too, and 1 only gets $300 for my jol 
but seein' hit's my bread band butter there hain't no i 
fightin' with' wot I 'as t > heat— so I'm hoff. 

Willoughby— The die is cast, as Tragedian Sm 
would say. We've nlay^'d our cards right so far, a 
if the boys don't have enough sport in the next d 
or two to keep the diggins cheerful next winter i 
name's Dennis, and my reputation's gone. 

Captain — Don't be too hard en the boy, Dick. 1 
needs a lesson bad, but remember his mother's telegr; 
She asked to hn e him sent home "safe" at all hazar 
I can enjoy a good, practical joke myself, but be cai 
ful— a mother's a mother all the world over. 

WHloughb:—i:Tnst me for that. Cap. It will 
what we don't do that will scare the critter back. I 
when do you reckon to strike the Takoo on your w 
South? 

Captain — Let me see, with the load I have for D> 
and Chilcat I can't get here again for 36 hours. 

Willoughby— A.\\ right. Cap. 36 hours goes. Wi 
have been to Klondike and back by that time, see if 
don't. When you reach here be on the lookout for t 
Spoopendike expedition and on no consideration lea 
the south shore of the Inlet without us. 

Captain — Never fear, man, and I'll see you're w 
paid for your trouble — but remember, Dick, don't 
too hard. 

(Exit together) 

Scene IV. 

Isabel — (Discovered on deck with Theodore wh 
the vessel is standing at wharf, a view of the gangw 

[ 186 ] 



oia*?*''* ""^'^ necessary feature.) Were you very sick, 

''^'/'♦•«<;'"'f-Sick-mc sick-Did I not tell you, dawl- 
ing. that ah— I never g^t seasick. 

/ja6W-0h how nice it is to lie a man. I thougj 
shou.d have died while the ship was rollinR 

Iheodore-W'tW, dawIii.K. you see it all de.)ends on 
strong will power ; i determined when I came on board 
that I would not »)e sick, don't you know-and- 

/■omwy- (Entering in haste) Say, Guvnor, is this 
your dianond pin? 

Thcodf re— Yes. Tommy, Where did you get it? 

Tommy -Oh I didn't get it at all. One of the waiters 
gave It me. 'e said 'e found it at the bucket you 
used wen the rollin' was on, and so 'e thought U 
must be yours. "•"ugiu u 

Theodore-Tommy, will you go at once and prepare 

u ii^"1!k*^- P'oS"'''^ ^^^ assistance of the guide. Mr 
W.lloughby, to take our outfii ashore. I will be at 
liaml presently to superintend. 

ro»,,„y_All right. Guv., but will I give the waiter 
something for finding he pin? 

I heodore—VoT goodness sake, Tommy, don't sav 
another word about that pin In fart I am inclined 

nfo'"ir' i' /%"^* '"'"?-°^ course-how co^ld i get 
into a bucket if it was? * 

7;o»u«y_But the bucket was in your cabin. Guv. 

at'o;;cff7hrrbl^^;„riefi% ^^°"^ *'^- -^^^ 

rowimy— (Who does not see the vital uoint) Oh 

k eo'^?; S"^- '" *?' ^''' "^y ^''^^ hand but"er I'll 
Sr hoff^ myself-a penny or two will stand the 

(Exit) 
Theodore— Don't you know. Isabel, he is the most 

/ iT A "■ *h* "*** ^ew weeks. *^ 

How Ir!;;; HiV.'^*'^*'''^' h""^ ^'" ^ <=^" ''ve without you? 
How long did you say you would be gone? 

mn^tZ.T^^^^^^^ ^''f" w'lole weeks, dawline. I 
hah.Tr^^ east, two weeks at the mines, you know 

thmltf Oh T.'"«^ '"t Theodore's arms ai th^ 
inoiignt). Oh^ Theedy. I will surely die. 

thinkinf of";^'^''n"PL ^^^''"^^ ^ou know I shall be 

gohf that^ ."n/" •*'?" Vk"'"- ^'*h every shovel full 

■THnk hc^yJ I '"*° ^''^ "'h register I shall sav 

Izzy." ' h^''^ 's one more shovelful nearer mv 

[ 187 1 





ft 





u 




Isabel — How nice ! But, Theedy, dear, will you pi 
isc mc one thing before w«* nart? 

Theodore— I will promi vou anything, dawlin^ 

Isabel — (Nestling into .cedy's arris). Will 
pronvse — solenuily promise— for it will be my 
comfort while you are away — that you will not 
your arms around any girl till you come back to ; 
own Izzy. 

Theodore — Why, dawling, bless you. Of cour: 
will. V'our face, and yours onl^, will be before nu 
ways; nd as for puttnie my arms around another 
' ivould die first. 

I'iltoughby — (Passing by unobserved, says in 
asid'^) We'll see about that. 

Theodore — And, dawling, to seal my vow — (drop 
his knees dramatically, when his golting trousers li 
at one knee without him noticing) 1 kiss you like 

Isabel — How nice! (Embraces) 

(Just here Tommy enters covered with outfit con 
ing of gas stove, cradle, creepy chair, cash regi 
shovel, milk pans, etc., etc., and Theodore, taken 
surprise, rises suddenly the result of which is that 
leg I ' his knickerbocker trousers drons down in 1 
crous manner). 

Tommy—Say, Guv., I can't find the mattress for 
cradle anywhere. 

Thendore— Never mind, we will buy a new oni 
Klondike. I see by the papers that all miners 1 
"rocker " and money can procure anything, you ki 

Willoughbv — (Entering with scales) Excuse me, 
Spoopendike, but are these part of your outfit? 

Theodore— V^)^y, yes, don't you know. The sc 
are an original IJea of mine, to save time, .;on't 
k* ow. 

Willoughby-lnAeeA ! In what way, Mr. Spoopendi 

Theod rr— Why, you see to weigh all the coarse j 
that is t^o big to go into the cash register. 

IVilloughby-That's so. Your ingenuity is marvel 

Isabel — How nice ! 

Theodore — Tommy, where is the large kettle? 
take great pride in that also, don't you know. I 
another idea entirely of my own. 

Tommy — It's a toinin', (3uv. I gave the chap as fo 
the pin the job of lugging up the kettle as a rew 
for is trouble. 

Willoughby—Yoxi say the kettle is an original ii 
eh ! In what connection, may I ask ? 

Theodore — Well in case we run short of provisi( 

[ 188 ] 



1 you prom- 

dawling. 

Will ,^u 
e my oily 
fill not I'tu 
ack to ymir 

>f course I 

fore nic .i' 
another niri 

says in it 

— ( drops ' n 
)uscrs l)iir>t 
3U like thiv 

Jtfit consist- 
sh regi>t(r. 
?, taken liy 
is that OH' 
wn in li!(!i- 

'ess for the 

new one at 
liners have 

you know. 
jse me, Mr 
fit? 

The scales 
, .lon't you 

•oopendike: 
coarse gold 

marvelous 

kettle? 1 
now. It is 

ip as found 
s a reward 

iRinal idea, 

provisions, 



Si's tSnL',tir """" ■"' " "■ "»" "» 

-&t;^ is^'St^itji^i- ^^«'-^ --,u,o.s 

^ 7-.>„,«y-He means to boil 'em to thicken the bullion, 
li-luf.^'fr^^r.'^''' *"* "*"'» mean that. 

way can the kettle be usefuP °"^''''^' '" ^'^^^ °*''" 
unlfeSttttle Tnd l^tShT*'"^' '?^^"- ^ou get 

/r;//o„5jfr!:iYes bSrf /,?^' ""^^'' ^ '^^"'«- 

hammer in with you. ^'*^^' *''^ *° ^^^^ a 

Theodore— k hammer? 

^^^ >^^4-^S f'';F ''■°V!:?"°oV.K: 

I o"wjy— Coram'. Sir. comin' Tti» r ' > , 
(Exit) 



[ 189] 



'|.n 



\ 

V 




Willoughby — If you'll excuse me, Mr. Spoopenc 
I'll get a rustle on to engage quarters for your oi 
You see Juneau is only a small town and roof rooi 
scarce. And, come to think of it, wouldn't it bi 
well to wire ahead to Klondike that your expeditio 
coming. We had better not delay a moment- 
come, you know, first served. 

Theodore — I never thought of telegraphing. Ye 
is an excellent suggestion. I see that you will be c 
useful to me, Mr. Willoughby. Be so kind as to n 
all arrangements and then meet me at the chief hot- 

(Exit Willoughby) 

And now, Isabel, the time has come for us to 
(embraces her fondly). 

Isabel— Oh\ My own Theedy (tears). (Trouser 
drops again). 

Theodore — Goodbye! (Arranges trouser leg). 

Isabel — Be sure and come back. 

Theodore — Yes, dawling. (Trousers still botheri 

Isabel — You will be true? 

Theodore — Certainly. (Trousers again) 

(Steamer bell). 
Isabel — 
Theodore — 
Farewell! (Shaking handkerchiefs.) 

Curtain 



[ 190] 



ACT II-AMONG THE PHILISTINES. 
Scene I. 

turn from the South Whl^« ♦., uii'''!'^ °" ^'^ re- 
faro and cards beg"n to ^,^.. 1" -^""S^^ "^^"' ^"d 
ward and stHkeV ,i^ I ^ •^^^'"' ^"^'^ comes for- 

ui c- ^'"'^es up conversation with 'Tnl " c^^ 

Sim /«w— What's it to be? 
inow-Give me it straight. 

strucf ?'^?-5*e:fj:.°;?'- n^rr .^^^"^ ^^^ Sound I 
mother don't know he-s ou?TnH SP°°P^"dike, whose 

to git him homeTgaiS The crftter ain't'''.^-'f;".""'^"u^ 
his prospects as a mi-irm„,; ,""^^^ f '" *. satisfied with 

valet-what do you L nk orth^p' ^"^ '^^^^^ ^'^^ a 
us common white trash m^Lli'" '"■^^'" *° ^^'^^ 
business. I'v^promisS f Tn P^r^^Mf"^. '^^ «"'• o^" 
toed beauty^Pd aU th.^K^'i " ^" ''^^^ ^^^ P'"'^" 

sound on^h'is'"r^u^i %V,t"'' '' " ^^^^ "^^ -^ 

Her^e's'^^io'u' sffm°"/h.-' ^'°'"'?l '^ ^ ^^"^^ thing. 
think we%r ma^ilLge^it'"'" "'^'^ «'^"">- ^^^ J'^" 

in sizrn/urhis'S:y5'^?,l'!f'^°" -^'^^ ^ --take 
him back, the SoceSon'! n^ '^T"" '^l^ ^^^'^ ^ave 
already aboard ^ ''^'"°" ' °^"' ^ecuz the outfit is 

chafft?s\V;°:ky'/nh'^^^ °" ?^*-. ^ ''«le 
tion. But comhV Wl! f ^u"!,'""^','" ^he right direc- 
chicken to yo^r rooJ ° ^1 '■°''^' ^'^^ '"^'^^d the 
dressed for the occLs^nn i "'^''* t'^t ^' ^^'^ ^J^ays 
looking chap He^''°'^l ^ |""3 '^^ " ^ a formidable 
country of ^any ^reenv T ^'""^u'^ ^^J""^ ^''""^ this 
like most howlfn'^sS hi ^h-'u^'"'^"^ ?«^'"^t; and 
as cheap as his duds ' ^ '"^" '" °^^^^»s »s 

f 191 ] 



I 



I!. 
I 




Snow—WeW, by the jumpin' jerusaleni, if we d 
send him back to his nia with an ex-ray photogi 
of himself this time tomorrow, it will be because 
couldn't stand the strain. 

Slim yim— What's the programme, Dick? I'll do 
song and dance if you like, just to give the regla 
little diversion. 

lVilloughby—V\e thought the matter over, ant 
get something rich and juicy let's put him throuj 
"yarn racket" first. It's my policy to be mild, mysel 
am his "^niide and interpreter, don't you know," 
when he is quite satisfied with me his hours are r 
bered. But you people pull his leg for all it's w< 
Don't stick, at a yarn because it's been told before, 
he's of a conservative blue-blooded strain— anything 
is his hobby. He even likes the geography of his < 
years "because, like wine, don't you know, it has 
advantage of age." 

(Laughter.) 

Slim Jim — And after the yarns how would it d 
put him through a step dance or something — I ha 
persuasive argument here ha! ha! (holds up his 
shooter.) 

Willoughby — I've thought of that. I've told 
there was going to be a grand ball here tonight, 
sweetheart was aboard — a wishy-washy, senseless t 
like himself — and I caught him swearing like a h 
on fire that he would die rather than put his ; 
around any other girl — 

Snow— Hal ha! Leave that part of the seanc 
me. Slim, old man, I'll get "The Princess" loadec 
b'ar and you d the bluffin' act. Ha! ha! Gem 
wont we have M)me sport? 

Willoughby— U it tain't too late when we get thr 
dancin', I've scratched out a plan to go snipe s! 
in' (hearty laughter, as "snipe-shooting" is 
initiation miners give to all "tenderfeet"). Holy sm 
here he comes, togged out like a Texas cowboy. T 
the valet behind him. The little 'un is the makin' 
trump card— but it won't do to let him know too ii 
(Enter Theodore and Tommy.) 

Theodore— By the bye, Mr. Bartender ( 
hauteur), are you acquainted with a gentleman n; 
Willoughby— Mr. Richard Willoughby, don't you ki 

Willoughby— (coming forward) Ah, Mr. Spo( 
dike, so happy to meet you again. What will you 1 

Theodore— (not pleased with tough appearanc 

[ 192] 



f we don't 
photograph 
because lie 

I'll do my 
e reglars a 

rer, and to 
I through a 
i, myself. I 
know," and 
•s are num- 

it's worth. 

before, for 
inything old 
of his early 
, it has the 



lid it do to 
5 — I have a 
up his six- 

e told him 
Dnight. His 
iseless thing 
ike a house 
lit his arras 

e seance to 
' loaded for 
I ! Gemines, 

get through 
snipe shoot- 
ig" is the 
rloly smoke! 
'boy. That's 

makin' of a 
w too much. 

nder (with 
pman named 
t you know? 
[r. Spoopen 
ill you have? 
ipea ranee of 




'To SUP UP THE BLOOD, YOU CHUMP." See page 193 



- >^ 



il|te^ 


j 


^^^^Hj^B^H 1 


, 


^^^^^Hll 


■ 1 


^^K^^^^^^Kk ' 


t 


^^^^^^^^^B 




^H 


f 


^^Hi 


1 






i! *' . 9HBj : IHrS' 


^: \ 


14l 


t^ ■ ■ 



saloon inmates whom he has surveyed somewhat 

Tlf^i \Vi '^dulge-except in the comJS^y of^ 
ah— at the club, don't you know. *^^ 

■111 ■^»'»— Perhaps he would like "a elawss of 
mil-le-k and a straw, don't you know " 
(Laughter.) 

^^JJ^'odore-Beg pawdon. but I'd rather not, don't you 

(Renewed laughter) and Theodore first seeine that 
perhaps they are laughing at him rejoins : ^ 

TommT 7X^f ^°'"/°"-"* "?y ^^P^"^«' " he so desires. 
^.iin^hi^^^ u °"5\ jumping at the opportunity) 

Theodore— A spoon? Why, ah— what do I need a 
spoon for, pray, if I may make bold to awsk * 

Mnnifl::^" '"P "P *^^ '''°°d' yo" chump. 
(Manifest amusement.) 

» «//o«^/.Z»3f— (coming to rescue) My partner Col 

Theodore— Ah, indeed, a twagedian— how verv enter 

lou'"fh ^ '^^^ ^"•''^ F^^* d^"«ht in con'l^ersing with 
you-ah— pwofessional people, don't you know Ym, 
are so realistic at timesfdon't you know hTs wealk 
elates 'wl'° ""' '"" ^°" ^"'^ °"* the way'w'e "igffi 

JiL"^^tfT^^ ^1^ ^ declare-ah-it is so 
?o. donf 7ou 'knoi"^" °* ^°"'- ^"^'"""^ "^h-to say 
(Laughter.) 

laiSe? aTr^N^t" .r^^ ^""^^ ^'^^" he is being 
Sh? ^ ^°* ^* ^"-•'"t ^^^ y°" heah for your 

SnoTs^For my health— come to Alaska for mv health? 
(iaighs immoderately) Ha ! ha ' ha ' 

Everyone'Trs^o ^''"L' ^"^■'' T^ ^?.^^'" here, stranger, 
here a,"' in wTnt'^r''' ^/°""^ ^ ^'«8'"«- The Colonel 
Deacon ^"*^ prosp-oc<j in summer. Eh! 

melho''^i^^'~^^°^^P^ ^^- Spoopendike has allowed 

time we .tfJl ?'''^' ^u""^ '" ■" ^'' ?«* ^her -n good 

morning *"'' ^'■^'" h^''^ '^ o<=>«-i^ toa.ofrow 

[ 193 J 



4 



;•: J 



li 





^» M^ .^.'"''~^'° whom this is new) Oh weally, 
VV illoughby, couldn't we make it later than that > 
see I usually breakfast at nine. 

Snow— Why, Mr. Spoopendike, if you wait till 
It will be moonlight. 

r/ifodor^— Moonlight ? 

Snow— \\hy yes, did you never hear that this 
the land of the midnight sun? 

Theodore— Aw, come to think of it now, I do r 
that name, but the reason they called it that never 
curred to me before. Of course if they have su 
nighttime it stands to reason the moon must shin^ 
day. 

S'noo'— Certainly. 
(Winks 'and laughter.) 

Tkeodore-Tommy have my shoes polished and 
hunting apparel ready for 4 o'clock in the morning. 

Tommy— All right. Guv. But, say, I thought as 
you wuz agoin' snipe shootin' tomorrow ? 

^^i/ZoMi^A&.v— (breaking in to smother laughter 
the boys") So, it is tonight that Mr. Spoopendik 
gom to try his luck with the snipes. 

Theodore— Weally, Mr. Willoughby, but I fear 
fatigue of the ball will unfit me for the pleasure 
mention. I only intend to engage in a square danci 
two ; but even they are tiresome, don't you know, i* 
wa^' won't it be too dark? 

Willcughby—Wt always go snipe shooting at nij 
and as Juneau is the only snipe shooting ground; 
as tomorrow night we will be on our way to Klondi 
and as gentlemen of your culture are always g 
sportsmen — why — 

Theodore— Yes, as you say, it is rare sport anc 
will be too bad to miss it. But we can tell better a 
the ball is over. 

Snow— (Sings (and dances) the line) "After the 1 
is over. 

(Laughter.) 

Tommy — Did you take part in many hengagemc 
wile you wuz a soldier? 

Snow— A soldier — who said I was a soldier, Shor 

Tommy— Wy; hain't you called Colonel? 

6«ottf— Yes, but that don't cut any figger. It's e; 
seem' you haven't been long in America, young 'un. 
Colonel don't have to be a fightin' man in this count 
They called me colonel because I was a lawyer bef( 
I left the South. 

[ 19^ ] 



ait till nine 



at this was 



wifh'Xfr^ ''''^"' ^"^ "°^'^ ^ <=o>oneI Kot to d. 

two weeks when I left the pass ™" '""^ 

they°"'"^S° ,hey 'aye f ogs ' a( Klondike t«>, do 

se^':fe;^--V^^tH^i^^-Sn.^ 

^^W j//jj«^A6,_Thafs as bad as the story the mission- 
^/fm/im— Missionary! What's that? 

J./^i7)~^Z'f'^''^^t^- ^'^°J^'^ "P his hands in 
S UhJ^lV ^T ^"°* ^^3* a missionary is 
6«^«~VVhy. Shm don't you know what a sky iiiot 

hefe'tcasio'i^aX' to"ten V^"". •"°|!y^<^^dles as comes 

coitS t?ettS' H^etfr^^^^ '^^'T^ *° J""-" ^° 
Jo.., vv"t's^"siw 

Inl'ns""^As^rJn?J"".'-^"^'l"%.'"^"- Chinook for 
like Mr <: ^''^m' ^^ Srot the Siwashes together and 

to cht- &rk^''so r;? ''^;:s^ didn't C; if^ 

knrJ IL 1- u ^" gettmg hold of a Siwash that 
anrth'e'Vor 'Buf he'.'^d' ^^ ^^" /''^ stoVy'of No'ah 
terpreter went on strfc. ^^^"f ,!P* u*^"" ^^^""^ t'^^ i"' 
fiavine a S r^l f ^- ^"^ *°'^ ^^^^ missionary that, 

not put ifTn jeoSv"h''r,';? '^^ ^.^"'°"' he would 
Theodore-D^T^/, &• *j"'ng such a yara 
u/.ii f, '-^^" nie! think of the savage 
miloughby-Oh, the savage didn't mind. It was 

[ 195 ] 



if 

rn 






the mJssionp.ry was in a hole. However by the judici 
display of a gaudy colored blanket here and there, 
soon found another interpreter, but as the story | 
gressed one buck after another snorted in a c 
temptuous manner and turning up his nose left 
gathering. One old man only was left when the si 
ended and the missionary, surprised beyond measure, 
manded the cause of the wholesale desertion. " 
sertion?" said the old Siwash, "They let you d( 
easy, tillicum. I'd a gone too only my leg is paralyze 
But why would you go? demanded the preacher. " 
why 'cause that story ain't true. See here, stranger, 
seen it rain forty days and forty nights right hen 
Juneau and the bay never rose an inch." 

Theodore---But surely the ah — Siwash do you call 

Willoughby — Yes. 

Theodore — Surely he was prevaricating, was he ii 

Slim Jim — I don't know what prevaricating mc; 
stranger, but I tell you that rain story don't cut 
figger when it comes to describing the whiskers. 
Jack Frost. 

Theodore — The what, ah I — 

Slim Jim— The cold, you gum head. Don't 
understand your mother tongue yet? 

Theodore — Beg pawdon, but — 

i'MOtt^— (interrupting) That's what's the matter SI 
Some of those tenderfeet are going to have their t 
nipped before they get to Klondike. Down Sot 
where I come from, it's so warm in summer that ; 
have to feed the chickens on ice to keep them fr 
laying hard boiled eggs. But when they manage 
get chickens m at the Klondike they have to feed tli 
on live coals to keep them from laying icicles. 

Willoughby — I believe you. Colonel. In fact it's 
candid opinion — I may be wrong — but it's my can 
opinion there ain't one of them outside my friend, I 
Spoopendike, here will ever see the Klondike. 

Slim Jim — Well I should snicker. Say Mr. Spoop 
dike, do you like fish. 

Theodore — (who wishes to put an end to si 
familiarity on the part of a mere barman, says w 
hauteur) I cawn't say that I am particularly fond 
that article — why? 

Slim /»w— (growing communicative) If you don't 1 
fish, you better not go into the interior. 

Theodore — Oh, but I must go. You see I-ah-sai( 
would, you know. What has fish to do with it anywi 

[ 196 1 



le judicious 

d there, lie 

story pro- 

in a coii- 

se left r\x 

n the story 

leasure, dc- 

ion. "iJu- 

you down 

paralyzed." 

cher. "(ii>, 

•anger, I've 

fht here in 

iou call it? 

as he not' 
ing means, 
I't cut any 
hiskers on 



Don't yuj 



latter Sl'm. 

their toes 
wn Soutli, 
T that you 
them from 
manage to 

feed them 
leSk 

act it's my 
my candid 
Friend, Mr. 
ke. 
'. Sppopen- 

1 to such 

says with 

iy fond of 

1 don't ii''" 

[-ah-said i 
it anyway? 



Slim Jt,nr-lt has all to do with it. You won't have 
iMother hue to eat for months at a time Everything 
else freezes harder than bedrock. Why my card amlf 
got caught m the gold fields last year aTid we had to 
wjnter on the Yukon Talk about f reezo t Uicum thar's 
where you get the gilt edge variety. We knocked ,,n a 
cab,n on the banks of the%iver but it was so cold fhe 
cabm was cu tus, and we had to take turn^Bill and 
me-to shovel our frozen breath out of the shack 

I hcodure-Excusc me, sir, but-ah-you used some 
strange expressions while you were speaking? don't 
you know, I have noted some of them as I desire o 
acquire he language of these parts. Here they are- 
telly— tillykum and kultus— ^ 

ii^'lloughby-Entirdy my fault, Mr. Spoopendike 

\Uu n'T T^^"' ^"^"^ ^"e^. "^"•'"«" means wSrthlsI' 
\\hen a cabin is cultus. Slim means it was no use 
Ihese are Chinook words which I have undertaken as 
you remember, to interpret for you. Go on. Slim what 
d.d you have to eat (Aside to Theodore I whrtry 
and explain his words as he goes a'ong ^ 

Slim y.m-Vyall, I might say that before the winter 

^htj^'^SWrr'^^V}'^ •" *«^ o">y about ten feel 
th.ck-B.ll-Buckskin Bill-that was my backlog- 

^ J7..odor.-Backlog! What's that? Is that Chinook 

&;f»;%V°.nI]'l''H^"^"l^',*^?^ T^"« bedfellow. 

before iZlZ lu ^i "^l'^ ^ ^""^^ *" ^^^ '^^ ^^ ^ said 
1^1 tore, and by the aid of a net caught enough fish in 
a few hours to last us for the winter. 

/ om«iy-Say, Landlord, that's hall guff you're a giv- 
'"^er "',•• ^'^"* ^^^ fish freeze too? ' " '^*' ^ 8'^ 

.b/iw yjw— Who said they didn't, Smartv? The 
moment we hauled them out they were'as sdff a^s'poklrs 

them 11''!'" ^' l^"" '"«h°'« '" « P»e just as we caught 
them and came for a fish each meal according as we 

•*Poke'rs"Te'H ?"ii; '\ ^^^"'^ ^''" ^^' thofe Lme 
fresh m. J I died of scurvy. They were the only 
fresh meat we had all winter. 

Jheodore-But towards the lawst the fish you soeak 
of would'nt be any too fresh either? ^ ^ 

.. vnl! ~^,?u '''■"^- ^t '""^t ^^ painful to be green 
?heYrv oin tZ\ ^t^^"^"' ^^ose fish were fresherin 
Would 'lo^, K r ^^^."^^^ Ihe day we hauled them out. 
hbS r ^^^'^""^ '}' Deacon, we had to hit every 
blamed finny on the head with a pick to keep it frorJ 



r 197] 



1^ 



III 





splashing the gravy all over the cabin while it wa 
ing thawed back to life. 

T^J'"!'..'"^":^^* *''"^ ''oe* the winter break ht 
Klondike, Boss? 

Slim Jim— Oh, sometime in July. But that rer 
me, Colonel, of your chicken story. I can'» say 
come through anything like the live coal experitnc 
|,.,'^?"..<^°'"« pretty darn near it. Two years a 
VVhisthn Ben— Yon remember Ben, Hon't yer? 

Snow — The squinty eyed chap? 

Slim Jim— No, no! the fellow with the impedym' 
the frog m his throat. Don't you remember, he 
to whistle when he couldn't get the word? 

Snoiv — Oh yes, yes of course I do. 

Slim y,w— Well VVhistlin' Ben packed a buncl 
chickens into the country, thinkin' to raise poultry 
bizness. 'le hadn't been thar long, howsomever, 
fore they oegan to dwindle away. 

Theodore— Poor things, the cold weather was 
much for them. Eh ! 

Slim Jim— Wrong again. Grub was so scarce, 
boys" had to buy him out. They bought all but 
ro'- .or it turned out; but as it come along to\ 
w <■ ir, Ben decided to keep him for a Cliristmas dii 
It > IS hard work but he managed to save the b 
ner 'jy keeping it tied up under his bed. 

'/■(.^orfore— Afraid of thieves, I suppose? 

Slim Jim— Naw. It was the frost this time, 
day before Christmas he untied the string to get 
fowl ready for the pot when it got out of the c 
and away from him. Well, you should have seen 
scramble in camp when they heard about it. It 
pened I was one of the invited guests for the next c 
dinner, and under the circumstances I joined in 
search. Finally we tracked the critter through the s 
to a high hill in the neighborhood, and as we c 
near he was standing on tiptoes flapping his wings, 
to look at him one would have thought he wuz cro 
to beat the band. 
Snow — And wasn't he? 

Slim Jim— No, Colonel, I declare it was funny! 
we couldn't hear a sound. However we were glad 
had tracked the beauty — crow or no crow — and 
make sure we wouldn't lose him again I blazed a\ 
and Ben soon had him ready for the feast. 

Tommy— But wot 'as all that got to do with 
I'd like to know. 

[ 198] 



1":'l 



le it was Ix' 

reak hup at 

hat reminds 
in'> say I 'v. 
ipcritnce Imt 
years ago— 
^^er? 

npedyment— 
jcr, he used 



a bunch of 
pouhry as a 3 
omever, be 

er was too 

scarce, "the 
all but the 
ong toward 
tmas dinner. 
e the bird's 



time. The 
to get tlic 
if the cabin 
ve seen the 
it. It hap- 
e next day's 
ined in the 
jh the snow 
IS we came 
wings, and 
(vuz crowin' 



funny! but 
:re glad we 
)w — and to 
lazed away, 

I with July 



-S7,w Jim-l'm comin* to that. On the 4th of Ii.l« 
-rmou. A glorious Fourth aiS anything 'wilt, aS 

n>^Su:jrH'.f^-ios;^-y/„fB • 
;i;^;,^!;;ft,T/„t1u^;^Kn°■'th•^3!:lf''M^S 

^e'p'tt^-triro'r '^^ Th'/n Sj^th^ £ "£ 

the orator had to sit down '^*' 

coum7^1rS?''"°'"'"°" '''''■ "°- ^'d you ac- 

th^''"l .{'"'-^'nipif as rollin' off a log. Turned out 
't^P'atform stood on the very hill where we h»H 
chokeH the cock the Christmas befo e. He had been 
St.f ^'*^^»^^hen we caught him but it wuz so 

^r'u^^UKt'tirEearr^ {rtVo"' ^^" "/ ^ 

thc^t'of^Vf^ ^""^^ ^T--^'!'» tTh^ouid waif^?^^^^^ 
the 4th of July oration before it began to thaw oi I 

•f fir?*«'a'i -'.hffonfe ,£Sf - 
v«S';ri?„tLX<Jtl "°'""'^- '■"*»'"» 

w.-f/;r;i:.^rfM'he''h,5°°'' "!"« «',«« J<=h„„, Bull 

cofhot37^;ou''r„a''e'!L^S5" ^^ '» '"^""""^ 

^e-t'g-n^ara^-ii'&.o^'o" irt-^o^"" ^""""^ " '""' 

Sm^Nm W rLSS' r,,"* '",,'1'''= «"*"6 timber? 
it down a„ '^ Jie'fl ,; the trouble comes in cuttine 

rC^Ve^ah^ h%°t'/l2 r h^nl^^^ 

nfcr'^Yo^l J'^^." r;"V^' '-hadn't come. 

have^t you ? ^'"'^ °^ *''' ^'^ ^rees of California 

Ton:nty-Oh, yes. I 'ave. T .ey makes wine out of 

I 199] 



if 



\ 




'em don't they? I've seed 'em in hadverttsen 
They calls hit Big Tree Blend. 

Show — I guess they must if you say so— eh boys 
ha! But the big trees of California don't cut a I 
b< jide those of the Klondike. 

Theodore— My \ My! 

Show — Why I went out one morning to do a 
chopping for a cold day and I fouml a tree that se 
to suit me exactly. I started in at once and kept 
till I ^ot hungry. While I was eating lunch, I 1 
a tappmg and a tapping that sounded tor all the \ 
like a wood pecker; and yet it grew too loud l 
wood pecker. My curiosity was roused and after 1 
eaten my dinner I went to explore. And what dc 
suppose I found, Mr. Spoopendike? 

Theodore— I couldn't say, I'm sure. 

Snow — Why I found another man chopping a 
same tree and he'd been there longer than 1 had 

Theodore — What an enormous tree! Are you 
it was the very same tree? 

Slim Jim — Colonel, do you know I had clean f( 
all about that incident. You remember it wuz me 
the other fellow. 

Snow — Shake, ole man, so it was. Let's have ani 
drink on the strength of it. 

IVillottghby— Talking about wood, Colottel! W 
the matter with that ditty you used to sing us a 
show. I'm sure our distinguished friend will be ph 
to hear it. 

Slim Jim — Yes that 'un about the wood pile. Si 
Snow — we'll all be quiet as kittens. It's so durn life 
that I have the shivers everytime I hear it. Sii 
like a good fellow. 

Snow — All right, Slim. Pass us over somethir 
wet my whistle. I ain't particular about a tuning 
but a tuning glass is indispensable. 
(Takes drink.) 



THE SONG OF A WOOD-PILE. 

I wintered one season at Juneau 
Where the weather is awfully chill ; 

And the wind it blew fierce through the windo' 
With a fury that boded me ill: 

1 had to my name scarce a dollar— 



[200] 



vertisements. 



lave another 



I lived a la poverty style; 
And the one friend I had in my squalor 
Was a rousing, substantial wood-pile. 

But I sighed as I loolced on that woodpile 

As I gazed on it day after day; 
Yes, I sighed as I looked on that wood-pile 
And saw that it dwindled away. 

When the Winter first came with its blizzards. 
^ Says I to myself with a smile: 

"\! f" °f '"^ °"'" ^"ends fail me 

"I'll still have that rousing wood-pile." 
I strutted about in my gladness, 

And naught could diminish my glee • 
Thinks I "Who could languish in sadness, 
And have such a wood-pile to see?" 

But I sighed as I looked on that wood-nile, 

As I gazed on it, day after day; 
Yes, I sighed as I looked on that wood-pile. 
And saw that it dwindled away. 

It seemed cold as icebergs for ages; 
The Winter was long and severe; 
So I kept piling wood in my heater, 

Regardless that wood-piles were dear. 
The weather was just at its coldest, 

When lo ! I was horribly pained 
To find, though I'm one of the boldest, 
No stick of my wood-pile remained. ' 

So I sighed as I looked for that wood-pile 

I sighed, as I gazed in dismay; 
So I sighed as I looked for that wood-pile 
When the wood-pile had dwindled away. 



[ 201 ] 



Fj^' 



\ 



i'' 



I . i; 



f i 



And now, friends, I'll tell you the moral— 

The moral of this little lay : 
And you'll hear what is taught by a wood-pile- 

A wood-pile that dwindles away. 
When the Winter ne'er seems to be going. 

But the wood goes in spite of your sigh ; 
While the snow and the wind keeps a-blowing- 
Get another big wood-pile or die. 

For to sigh as you gaze on a wood-pile, 

To sigh; as you gaze in dismay; 
For to righ as you gaze on a wood-pile 
Don't keep it from dwindling away. 

(Applause.) 

3"noiy— (after another drink) Say, Mr. Spoopendi 
don't you sing? 

Therd'^re — Me sing? How is it people get the i( 
into their heads that I sing? Not that there is ai 
thing particularly wrong with music — classical musii 
don't you know— so long as it is in its place. But 
class me on a level with people who make a living 
means of it is very annoying, don't you know. Nc 
do not sing, most decidedly. My valet may perh; 
favor you, but as for me the request is a positive insi 

Snow— I beg your pardon, Mr. Spoopendike. 
offense I assure you. It was the length of your e; 
made me think that perhaps you might be able to hi 
a little. But I wouldn't hurt your feelings for I 
world. Slim give the little un another '"alf 'n 'a! 
Now, Tommy, what say you to a song? 

rowimy— Hall .ight, boss. Seein' hit's my bread ha 
butter. I never likes to fight with wot I 'as to heat : 

(Takes a drink and sings:) 

HE COULDN'T SIT DOWN. 

One day I determined to go for a ride, — 
Though 'twas long since I'd mounted a horse, 

And felt so indignant, it injured my pride. 
When told I'd be sorry— or worse. 

I grew quite impatient at every delay. 
While waiting to straddle "the brown," 

[ 202] 



ll— 

od-pile — 

g. 

igh; 
lowing — 

od-pile, 

)od-pile 
iway. 

oopendiki', 

!t the idea 
re is any- 
al music— 
e. But to 
I living by 
)w. No I 
y perhaps 
tive insult. 
dike. Xo 
your ears 
lie to bray 
s for the 
f 'n 'alf." 

read hand 
[> heat ; 



a horse,- 
le, 



And until the hostler was well c. ih^ ^^,y 
I couldn't be made to sit down. 

I couldn't sit down, I couldn't sit down, 

No, I really couldn't sit down; 
You may laugh if you please. 
You may titter and tease- 
But I really couldn't sit down. 

As soon as my steed was in trim for the road 

I strove to get onto his back ; 
But though I quite loudly and earnestly "whoaed" 

He wouldn't stand still in hi> track 
Undaunted I smiled at the gathering throng, 

To show them I was not a clown ; 
But with one stirrup short and the other one long- 
I really couldn't sit down. 

I couldn't sit down, I couldn't sit down, 

No, I really couldn't sit down; 
You may laugh if you please, 
You may titter and tease- 
But I really couldn't sit down. 

In time I was able to manage the beast. 

And flew from the place like a shot • 
Says I to myself "Now I'm in for a feast" 

And one I'll remember, I wot." 
I tried to ride easy and practised the lope; 

But 'twould make e'en a Methodist frown, 
Ihat horse and that saddle so jolted me up. 
Ihat I didn't know how to sit down. 

I couldn't sit down, I couldn't sit down, 

No, I really couldn't sit down; 
You may laugh if you please, 
You may titter and tease- 
But I really couldn't sit down. 



[ 203 ] 



if-? 




At last when I thought I would surely succumb, 

And my body seemed limp as a rag, 
I once more got back to the "pleasures of home' 

And of? from that dastardly nag. 
But my troubles alas did not end with the ride. 

And I soon was the laugh of the town, 
For no matter how tenderly, careful I tried — 
For a fortnight I could not sit down. 

I couldn't sit down, I couldn't sit dowr 

No, I really couldn't sit down; 
You may laugh if you please, 
You may titter and tease — 
But I really couldn't sit down. 



Snow—BrAwo ! Young un ; if you stay in the cour 
hang me if I don't set you up as a star in the Sii 
dramatic troupe. 

Slim /m— That's right. Colonel. You alius kr 
when you strike oil. I'm blamed if you don't. 

Theodore — Excuse me, but what do you mean by 
expression "strike oil ?" 

Snow—You dcn't mean to say you've never been 
Pennsylvania? Mr. Spoopendike. 

Theodore— I cawn't say that I have. 

Slim Jim— Hain't you been nozvheref 

Theodore— Yes, I've been to Chicago— hut what s i 
got to do with "striking oil?" 

Slim /tm— Explain the thing to him, Colonel 
hain't time. 

Snow— Why, Mr. Spoopendike, the term is of a t( 
nical nature, and like a good many other technical te 
it's sort of upside down. As a matter of fact when 
come to the oil, it's ten to one that the oil strikes 
before you have a chance to get in fighting posit 
When I was in the oil region they were talking aboi 
fellow who struck oil on his claim when he had t 
given up hope. You see he had been boring for moi 
without success when at last his efforts were rewar 
Yes— though he'd been getting ready for it for a wl 
summer, yet, when it did come, he wasn't ready, and 
George, before he could turn to grab his oil coal 
was up 200 feet in air dancing: around on the toj 
the stream for all the wo: <d H'' a jumping jack. 

[ 204] 



iccumb, 
f home" 
e ride, 
ied — 
it down. 



he country 
the Snow 

illus kn(<w 

m't. 

lean by the 

'er been to 



what's that 

Colonel, I 

5 of a tech- 
inical terms 
t when you 
strikes you 
jg position. 
ing about a 
e had nigh 
for months 
e rewarded, 
for a whole 
idy, and, by 
oil coat he 

the top of 

jack. 



rheodore-Djah, deah. and did they save his life? 
-^ '^"'-Saved It. yes; he was up there for three davs 
in ail ; but they got him all O K ^ 

•uSy?"^~"' ^'"""^ °" ^°" ^" ^"PP°^^ *'«" 'e got 
Snow— No that was the funny part of it He nev^r 
missed a meal all the time he w[s there They jus" pu 
some ham and eggs or whatever he liked, 2^^" plaS 

Tommy-Well, boss, you beats the French. Shake 
old nian. I'm somewhat of a lawyer myself. ' 

Thcodore-And I suppose the poor fellow would 
have to eat .t, oil and all. It was enough to givrWm 
dyspepsia, don't you know. ^ ^ 

i,!im Jim— A man that does any roughing gets used 

kVTnl''''^'''''^^ muckamuck nowadays Say 

i7//'",^"" er^°"; °"^-'e8eed Jack. ^ ^' 

lyilloughby-No don't, it's too horrible. 

f'"" Jitn— But if it's true? 

lyilloughby—lt's the very truth c < ->kes mv hair 
stand on end. (Wink ) " kcs my nair 

soft ''" -^-^r^^f • } '^y ^'''^' ^^ ^ "-W you are a 
£a-d" whnf fh'^r^. '•'^P- li^y your luck at'^the firo 
uoa.cj while the ColoneKs telling about it 

^ now— No, you tell it yourself. Slim. I'll swear to it 
trmh t'uT^' ^he whole truth, and nothing but the 
than 'l 'can "^ *"' Gemmes-but you can tell it better 

of'Vt""A^'^~^'^"' """^ ^" ^'■"^ stories thar in't much 
outfitted for^hfv ^8° ^ tf "^erfoot came to camp aSd 
back n.vl ^""^u"- "^ started in alone and came 

^henhe\atfZ'^:l^ ?"" ^* ^{^ *"t gone. It selm! 
Ho r.m ^ '"*° the interior he ran short of grub 
heVllv ."'^'" '^^"^'."^ to death and at last dedded 

delih^rn?L i ^^ "'."'*^ ^^siest do without. After 
takin? hk^c.,°'".uT^-;™^ •^^ '^hose the right foorS 

?omm7'T^^''V ^^^\ ? terrible ordeal. 
tommy— 1 d a chose the eft foot if he'd axed me 

^^^l':i^^!Z^'£f «° ^ ""'^ -«i^' the^grafn'to 

which the S„Jr^^' ^°" ^" '^^' *«s the one on 

Theodore-Well, I do hope weally that nothing like 



[ 205 ] 



i 








1 

«- 
( 


-"'■■} , ■ 



5 ; 




)■ mtim^m: (Bat If 



that will happen to me. But I understood there 
lots of game in the country, don't you know. 

Snow — Yes, there is some game too. If there ; 
we make it when there are tenderfeet around, ch ! SI 
Say, by the way, Slim, did you ever see Siwashes 
deer meat? 

Slim Jim — Yaas, let's see, the last time I took nc 
was a year ago at Devil's Gulch. There hadn't 1 
any deer seen for a month when suddenly a fat I 
was packed into camp. Well say, didn't they 1 
a potlacn ! it was worth a day's pickin' to see 
Siwashes pile into that deer, kicking and groai 
though it was. 

Theodore- Did they succeed in killing it? 

Slim /t>«— Naw! they didn't want it dead. You 
stranger, a savage is like a white man, he likes his r 
served warm. As I wuz saying I never saw a b'n 
scramble. The Klootches were the worst. 

Willoughby— {aside to Theodore) Klootch nv 
Indian woman. 

Slim Jim — They ain't stuck on forks nohow ; and 
havin' any handy they took the finger method, 
would snatch a handful of the meat and if it wu;: 
large a Siwash and Klootch would take sides of i 
their teeth this way (bizzness) and then the buck, 
always carries a knife, would jerk the blade upv 
this fashion, (bizzness) and that's how most of 
carcase was cleaned off. 

Theodore — Deah, oh deah ! how very dreadful.^ 

Snozv — Yes, it is fun I can tell you! That's 
most of the Klootches of the country have the fleshy 
of their noses gone. The Siwashes are so greedy 
they glance the edge of the knife out towards 
Klootch and, as it comes up with the jerk Slim r 
tioned, the Klootch's nose is off before she ever sti 
the knife. 

Theodore — Surely, that cawn't be so? 

Snow — I'll leave it to Slim. 
. Slim /i»«— That's right, stranger. I'll back up ev 
thing the tragedian says. I've seen some prettv "wl 
men in my time, but in all my travels I never saw 
that was "whiter than Snow." 

Theodore— But do you mean to say they eat the 
meat? 

IVilloughby — Why, my dear Mr. Spoopendike, 
you never hear that before? The Indians of the C( 
try are worse than cannibals. When I was off to 



[ 206 ] 



there was 

there ain't 
, eh ! SUm ' 
[washes cat 

took notice 
dadn't been 
a fat buck 
they have 
to see the 
d groaning 



.. You see, 
:es his meat 
iw a bigger 

)tch means 

w ; and not 
thod. One 
it wu/t too 
des of it in 
: buck, who 
ide upward 
lost of the 

dful. 

That's how 
e fleshy part 
greedy that 
owards the 
Slim nien- 
ever smells 



k up evcry- 
Ettv "white" 
/er saw one 

eat the raw 

lendike, did 
)f the coun- 
5 off to the 



Westward prospecting for coal <!n«,» 
"?„<?°^f h"'V° P-vision° my",'; nfh"^ ^^°' ' ^^"' 
4^'^!.;t^^"l-r^^)- box. S,im. 
wlnle you were telling "Lt S ^^ ^'^' ^° ^'""'^^ 

se,f;fe't'o;;^Lt"V"eii?/T^^ ^^s - ^- ->- 

cigar). Well, as I was sayi ■ Mr"^'''' ^"j?'. ^^'^^''^ 
we went ashore at OonaS^-uutr^^^P?^'''^ <P"ff). 
ot. smell. I enquired ihat it wn ""ll'^u ^ '"^^^ '''^^ 
pointed me to a wh-Ie' r ,r J!„^^ 'i""^, ^i'^ authorities 
They were overjOKd t mv H '"if '^^^ ^^^^^^ ashore, 
and offered to piy me haSonS-'if''TP'''''i'." ^P"'^) 
carcase to sea as it would take ''«^'"" ^ ^°"'d tow the 
nuisance any other wav T n Jf i "^ ° ?^* "^ ^^ the 
a long puff) after attach,-nl5'u''^ ^"^ after-(taking 
the whale I smarted omMv t'^T ^"^ ^=*^Po°" to 
and it took considerate tii^^to.T'' ^T"' " '"^^^^ °"<^. 
I was away from shore-wpll I ?^* ""'^^'' ^■^>'- ^^'hen 
late about half a m He iTe/rd i ..'^^ ''f-^^ ^ '^^''^"- 
coming from the carcase I li<f. '^^"'^ '5'"* °^ "^'^^ 
listened and we both hs^eneH. Z'^-^- ^"^ ^^e mate 
was something wrong /nuff? T h. .^^'"L '^^'^'^^^ there 
ashore (puff)^ Well to mnL . , "'""^ ^'^^ ''''"'^'^ back 
do you „. pose it was? ^ '°"^ ''"'"^ ^^ort, what 

Tommy-Jonah, wasn't it? 

Inlt^^fd^T/^familv"?- ' '^'^'"^ '^ '' --n't an 
blubber that thev dIdl'L ?• P''?o<^^"P'cd inside eating 

Putrifei?s' a^theX^di^^^^ '^ ^'^^ ^^p" "- on 

bave'Tuch'l^ck" Th"at" w'h"/ ' ^"^^^ "°^- They don't 
^'ch.;- One season I waftherrtlT.'T' '^'l" "^^'•^'"' '* 
supply of blubber into fh^ ,n • "" Siwashes packed a 
'venly a pound of gokl for =,^f"'- , ^'. ^Z*' ^'^'^^d up 
^^•- all gSne. Nexflay ;^o?sbadc°^ '^'"^'^''" ""''' '^ 

ro^„„^, Mossback ! VotT th-t ? 
^J/.//o«,,,,_That means°;fd^:i;ier-a man like Slim 

fS'/S;7°J;^eJ,7ay ^a^lS'\->"«^ 
enough to buy any sUck °4f ^'> "' '^^^"'* bad gold 
f-red even the "dds ,WolH f ''''^ °" '^^^ cla^m and 
Cut he wasn't in h That r ^m" •/ ' ''^^ "* blubber. 
P>«e of blubber had be« t% * '!,^' reported that a 
naa been ^.tolen and as things looked 

[ 207] 



it :i 



mighty suspicious we immediately strung up the Mc 
back, who had tried to buy it, as a warning to oth; 
Snow — That was your old tillicum, Buckskin Bi 
wasn't it? . 

Slim Jim — Yes, as white a chap as ever made a n 
or broke a bank. 

Snow— They found out after that he wasnt the r 
didn't they? , , 

Slim yim— Yes— turned out the dogs had chewed 
Theodore— \<'hait did they do then? 
Slim Jim— Do then! What d'ye s'pose any camp 
self-respcctih' miners would do? They strung up 
tenderfoot who had seen the dogs eat the meat 
not havin' come sooner to tell about it. 
Theodore— Hovr shocking ! 

Slim Jim— But say, youngster, talkin' about Joi 
you seem to know somethin' about him? 

Tommy — No more than that he swallowed a wl 
and spit it out three days after on dry land. 

r/»^o(/or^— Tompkins, you surprise me. I know 
have not a college education and are not expectec 
know a great deal, but still to find you so ignorant 
matter of that kind is— ah— pitiful to say the least. 
I remember rightly, it was the whale did the— j 
swallowing. 

Tommy— Yes, Guv., I knows that but I ukes to a 
myself to the company I'm in ; see ! I hain't be< 
whole day in Alaska without finding out it's 
hetiquette to be too pertickler about such stories. 
Theodore— "Why young man, are you a heathen? 
Tommy — Dunno. 

Theodore— You don't know what religion you 
Tommy— Not till I'm married. 
Theodore— VJhat has that to do with it? 
Tommy- Well don't yer see I'm going to be the s 
religion as my wife to havoid trouble. 

r/worfore— (showing his authority) I fail to ur 
stand you, Tommy, and in future— ahem— I wish yc 
be more accurate as to matters of religious import; 
Strange to say I — a person of college education- 
arrived at an altogether different conclusion. In 
the terrible struggles which those men assure us 
have had to come through and the alarming death 
the> depict have convinced me that religion afte; 
may stand us in good stead before we get to Klond 
Slim /im— That's just what I was goin' to 
stranger. By the way, have you heard the latest th 

[2081 



be the same 




HEEDV WALTZING WITH STARLITZ UNDER PRESSURE. See p. 214 



ajUl 



mmatr'~iw'^m^9l g ^ 



I, 



l< i 



i I 



«^' 








' 


9m '' ^ '" 


^HiHI ' 






ili 


1, 



They teach theory at Harvard 



on the Jonah question, 
don't they? 

Theodore— I cawn't say weally. Yoj «e I went fn 
a private collcjge. Mv mother thougnt Harvard was t<2 
common, don't you know "-irvara was too 

slZl^^U *^^J°"«h theory. Slim? 

^itm /im— Oh nuthm' much. They've found out 

S?s h!^»« ?* found himself in rather close quar- 
h?,» fi ? ^* *8° **=*''«^ *o do much the first dav 
but findmg on the next day that things wuz «nwi^5 
monotonous, he got to thinkin'. Bein"? smokiS man 
Fre^n^'hr"* !? him Suddenly that he had a S^st *" 
French Canadian tobacco in his breeches pocket You 

'""Z^TrS' ''^'"''^" *°^^- •^' ^ion't'y^?''^" 

a tLZtil^i:;^^'' ^^"^ ""' ^"' -- -n h^S 

.S■no^t^— Is that all? 

l^flloughby-Skookum means strong. 

wasStirfiTc^^P that could stand an vthing. Jonah 
wasn t the first man he had made smoke But Gemine 

2n Sa ^°^l^ ^^^ '^' fi"t ^ho had used the cTia- 

like fnr o u-i^'',?. '"^"**" ^"^d around uncomfomWe 

or the Sparest land" 'if'''^ ^'^"'^"'^^J ^"^ *»^«" ^ade' 

^»oa^-Can that story be proved? 

hap?y1.?th1,is'^'alf'Tn"W'" ^^^*•^° *^'^ ^ommy 
repkJished. Dick Ind Snow^'t 'f *=°".ti««ally beinj 
Slim serves drinks a? rorH?M »"j>o"nK>ng positions. 

KlSikeT"®"* ' ''^•■'^ *^"^ *««•« i°ts of bears at the 
Bufto/ «;7t® «r'""^" I''* ^°<»<*« ar« ««il of them. 



[209] 



Hi. 1 



Snow—U you keep a fire agoin' in camp, v 
ali right. But once your light goes out— 

Theodore — And then what happens? 

Sttouf—(^Nith a grin) Well I wouldn't advise 
one to stop to see. 

Slim Jim — Oh, if a man has plenty of nerve hi 
manage a bear all right. George, (addressing 5 
seriously) I knew of a man once, that was caught 
pin' by a grizzly but before the monster had a cl 
to get in his funny work the chap— who had an > 
long arm — thrust it down the critter's throat and ) 
bin' his tail sudden like, turned the brute inside oul 
pot away. 

Tommy—Say, Guv., I've beared that story in Ldi 
so 1 knows it's a w'opper. 

5"how— (winking at Slim) Well Si! n, I'm d 
right glad to hea /ou tell that experience. 
Spoopendike's vaie' ii.i't lyin' for I've heard it bi 
myself, but never believed it nossible till now. In 
I knew a gentleman, somehow Mr. Spoopendike 
reminds me of him, who actually tried the dodge 
found too late that his arm wasn't long enough. 

Slim /t>«— Perhaps it wuz his head wuzn't 
enough. 

Snow—1 can't say as to that, for after the bear 
finished with him there wasn't enough left to measu 

Theodore — Meeting with so many different fate; 
don't you know, there must be quite a number oi 
lower classes — I mean miners — die at Klondike. 

Slim Jim — Die! well I should snicker! My 
and I staked out our claim last season with fr 
tendcrfeet. 

Snow — (seeing Theedy grow skeptical hastens tc 
mark) Oh that was your claim was it? 1 wond 
who had taken the trouble to get so many stiffs 
gether. But say, Slim, you remember little Mack, 
undertaker? 

Slim Jim— Oh, "Wee Sandy," I should think I 
He left here for the mountains last spring with hard 
red to his name. 

Snow — That's the man. I was just going to tell 
how he tried to make a grubstake out of a tender f 
Word came to camp that a wealthy man was at Jui 
trying to find out something about his son who 
started oflf for the gold fields and had 'ot drownec 
some of the canyons en route. Mac. 'cided to i 
up the lead as a speculation and mutilating a c 

[ 210 ] 



:amp, you re 



advise anv- 



|r in London, 



{^■und and asked o* inow"wJ'uld"Vl'^'' ^^'^ ^^'^ *«^ 
for the dead. It took sLp S / P'".^?^''^ ^ <:"ffin 
and by the time the old n^n TrL ^?' '^? '" ''^PP^'" 
c-orpse was a little the wo I'Vr ^ ^t^l'u''^ '^^' 
forced to take Mac's u/nr.i ♦u . ? t "^ father was 
description and immediarelv L./* xV V"*"^^ ^''^ the 
ordering an cxiSvetuHaT outfit/"' n ^''^■'' ^'^^^ ^y 
was turning away from S h. u^ u""' J"«^ ^^ he 
dead son, r-.e chin res^fSl /n . *^°T^* *«* ^^'^ P"«r 
jaw to drcp far enoSih to di.T '" f- ^"^ "used the 
An-.azement covered^the tourUf'f ?^ % '"^ '^* "^ '^'^th. 

then, remembering hat hrssoih^'^"' '' '' '"°^''"' '"'' 
by an accident, countermanded tt^'l'.^'y '°i^ ''^t^ ^^t^ 
to mako further search ^^ °'"''" ^"^ proceeded 

Mhh y,m-That was hard on Mac 
Snow—Yes, that's whe^e thl ■ i 
stranger had no sooner left fhJ°v 'T" '"• The 
able to restrain h°rdLDDointm.nf '" ^^""^ ^^'' """ 
corpse, and slapping it viofernvT^' l^""^ "P *" ^^e 
on the face, said "There Li"/ i^f" ^^\''''«^ '"ot'O") 
onlv had enouF° .onse to'hnte ^^* ^°" '*?"'• ^^ yo"''d 
o had a decer. ^^f 1^}% ^0"^ "^outh shut you'ld 
fifty dollars in po.Krt " ''" ^ hundred and 

sto^'^vt^t^^^JhS^ ' T"^^ '"'.P'"- y- to 

don't you know %The ^a" JSj'^W '^"1' "^^^P- 
ar:aS.r' ^^^■■"' '^'« a?£r^]ne^ntnLotng 

-/ tie^EfftToX" tt'rt '"■'?'• ^ «"^" >^-'d better 
will have to chan^f wm ^'"''"'"K *<> Theodore) you 
the others.) "^^ '^'" ^^^ ""*? (With a wink at 

your'^'r^S?;: gentSn ' S' ^^f/^^ ^^ °— '^^ 
later. Come Tommy "^'^ "««* ^o" here 

(Exeunt Theedy and Tommy). 

Scene II. 

give roomto?daScini°'fr ■'°°" '' back oper^ed to 
of Indian women JrgauSl^'.'.V'*"''!,' ^"^ « P?oc?ssion 
'".rough clothes Mss in and f ^° "^'"^"^^ ^"^ '"'"^rs 
*"h Snow as floor Lnf''"^'"" "^1.1*=^ (•J"«^""e) 

[ 211 ] 



with 
diffe 
Just 






by the ubiquitous Tommy. Of course the full 
attracts immediate attention, as the Indian women 
never seen such an outfit, and the miners, whc 
mostly in their shirt sleeves, with sombrero hats, n 
high topped boots, and patched clothing, are an 
at the contrast.) 

Theodore — Well, did you ever — who are 
creatures with the red faces? Is this the 
Tommy — ^ah — where are you. Tommy. Oh, dear, 
lieve I will go snipe shooting. 

Willoughby — Ah, Mr. Spoopendike, glad to sec 
back. I'm sure you will enjoy a turn with the 1; 
Your striking and select appearance will make yo 
observed of all observers. Ladies always appreci; 
man who, like themselves, dresses for the occasio 

Theodore — (uncomfortable) Weally, I don't 1 
about that — or rather — I must be going, don't 
know. At what time did you say we were to go 
shooting? 

(General titttr.) 

Willoughby — Oh, don't let that interfere with pr 
pleasure, Mr. Spoopendike. We can postpone that 
Spoopendike — indeed we can — seein' you're so 
you know. 

Snow — Ah, Mr. Spoopendike ; so glad you are 
This is just where a young sport like you will < 
yourself. The ladies are in rapture over you. Wl 
lucky dog you are, to be sure. Blue Blood always 
when ladies are around. 

Theodore — But I fail to see any ladies, ah — ' 
ladies I mean. 

Snow — Well that is a joke. Say Dick, Mr. Spo( 
dike wants to know where the white ladies are — 
ladies in Alaska, ha! ha! 

Willoughby — Wall yes, it is a good joke. T 
a good many more of us looking for white ladies 
White ladies in Juneau, Mr. Spoopendike, are as s 
as chicken's teeth. They're not so scarce here as 
are in the interior. When a man sees a white wi 
comin' along in 'thar he gets to one side so she'll 
lots of room to pass. Then he stares her from he 
foot till she's out of sight, and for weeks that day 
red letter day in his existence. Yes, whatever 
pens around that time he sets down as "so many 
before" or "so many days after" the day he sav 
white lady. A good joke. Colonel, a good joke. 
Spoopendike is growing quite sociable. 



1212 1 



Show— (laughing immoderately) Sociable ain't the 
word for It, Deacon, he's a comedian. 

Ihfodore-l'm very thankful, gentlemen, for your 
'T;.V'"nT; but weally-ah-I a,„ so aniious-^K!L' 

Yow-Oh, IS that so. I will go this very minute 

?nr h''«?''"''1 a partner for you. (Hastens over To the 
furthest end of room.) 

r/.^«rforf— Vycally-weally-(calling louder) You 

(Louder titter."' 

U .//««^J6y_Nevcr mind the snipe shooting. Mr 
Spoopcndike. VVe have delayed that part of the pro- 
gramme purposely to give you the pleasure of a waltz 
JMorc-\ waltz. Save me. No. I wasn't going 
to wa tz anyway, but with one of those vulgar crea? 
iircs, I really must decline— I— 

. luces as the princess with great show of decorum) 
6«^7c.-Allow me, Mr. Spoopendike. Recogni"S 
your great and sh ning abilities, ^tarlitz. the beautS- 
the famous Jim Jam princess Starlitz-has grac ou ly 
consented to a waltz with you. Kraciousij 

rheodore—an terrible hot water) I'm sure you are 
^*^^y.. kind, yes, very kind indeed-but- ^ 

vow'to"C-J,t;'^^ ^^ Snow) He's thinking of his 
Theodore-^hnt you see I am unwell, or rather I 
t"LS^ng?pS. -'" ^°" «^ ^» -- -<^ --«e 
ro;«w,y~Yes, Guv. Seein' as 'ow as hit's my bread 
( ExirV"mX.) ''^" '° '"^'^ ^'"^ ^^nc^^^nZl sS 
(T?rnffo V^°" 'r* u^'" Star-Starlitz, did you say? 

(General titter.) 

veS^^^Mr I'"''*' ^^e" r ""derstand English 
ofthP mnct Spoopendike. But she is the daughter 
woild n f*"*"l Indian chief in these parts and it 

T! is kf"'^?''' ^^^^^y' ' cannot-don't you know. 
ii;!^. IS so embarrassing, I— aw— 

.i/iw /»m_(who approaches with a revolver in his 
[ 213 ] 






i 









\\ 



ll 
a; .p. 

If 

*- 1' 
« t 



i i 



I ; 



hand seemingly quite careless as to the possibility o 
its going off, even though the barrel is pointing a 
Theodore) See hyar, stranger. These ladies a.e her 
at my request. I hain't the slightest doubt but tha 
you are overwhelmed with the sublime honor tha 
Starlitz has conferred upon you. In fact, I s'pose that' 
what made you ferjrit the ball is waitin' on you. 
might say incidentally that it's part of my dooty a 
temporary guardian of the ladies to see that they ar 
politely treated, and I hain't the slightest doubt eithei 
that you will assist me in that pertikler. It is one of th 
rules of the floor in a mining camp that when a man i 
requested by a lady to dance he must accept the situa 
tion or provide a substitute. It is unnecessary (speak 
in a stage whisper aside to Theedy) to mention tha 
this gun is doaded for b'ar. 

Theodore — But — but — I — 

Slim /im— Strike up the music Fiddler. All tak 
your partners for a waltz. 

Starlits— Cum, me tink you vely plitty. Me no min 
you no dance good; me show you. 
(Pulls Theodore's arm.) 

Theodore — (in agony) Oh Tommy, Tommy, where i 
Tommy? He'll be my substitute. 

(Starlitz tugs at his arm and looking round fc 
Tommy he sees Slim Jim cock the revolver. There i 
no pity there. Tommy is gone for the shooting aj 
parel. It seems to be death or waltz. So finally li 
waltzes in a most ludicrous manner; his eyes fixed o 
a level with the revolver and his head bent back s 
though to get his nose as far away from his partner a 
possible. Tommy comes in while the waltz is in pre 
gress and says:) 

Tommy — Say Guv., she's not quite as tall as Mis 
Izzy, but she's 'hall there. 

Theodore — Hush, Tommy, for heaven's sake — (see 
the revolver). E>on't remind me of that sweet face. 

Starlits— Vou tink my face is sweet? Me tink yo 
vely pletty fellow. 

(Finally all sit down but Theodore and Starlitz. Th 
revolver still gleams and Theedy is too scared to stop. 

Tommy — (not seeing the revolver incident is wondei 
ing) You're shooting apparel is ready, Guvnor. Bi 
say! You seem to be stuck on waltzing. I don 
blame you heither. She's a "bute" and no mistak 
(Music stops but revolver still in position.) 

Slim Jim — Why, Mr. Souponstrike, you enjoy tl 

[ 214] 



dance more than we imagined you would. If you will 
stop for a moment, I'll ask them to strike up a polka. 

Theodore — (stops abruptly when danger is past) 
God forbid— a polka— Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. 

Tommy- 'Ere y'are, Guv. Wot can I do to hadd to 
yer pleasur-i? 

Theodore— Phase carry this royal lady (irony) round 
the floor during the next dawnce — the floor rules de- 
mand a substitute. 

11^ illoughby— {apparently oblivious of revolver inci- 
dent) But don't rush off unless you wish, Mr. Spoopen- 
dike, I knew you would like it. 

Snow—Yes, stay a bit longer. You can have the 
sane partner again if you like. Oh, (poking Theodore 
m ribs) you are a lucky dog and no mistake. 

Theodore— Don't mention it. Gentlemen, you see I 
have taken a fancy to snipe shooting (titter) and 
although I hate to drag you away from— ah— the ball, 
if you will call at my hotel, I will be ready to accompany 
you at once — if not sooner. 

Snow — But why go to your hotel? 

Theodore — Oh, I need my shooting apparel, don't 
you know. 

Willoughby—J^exer mind changing .igain, Mr. 
Spoopendike. It's getting late you know. Slim can 
lend you a pair of gum boots and we'll go at once. Eh ! 
Colonel ? 

Slim Jint—Yes, he can have 'em. (Holds out boots.) 

Snow— All right; let's go snipe shooting. 

(Titter.) 

Starlitg — (coming forward quickly as she sees three 
gettmg ready to go.) Mr. Sooptike, me want to dance 
polka wis you. 

Theodore— Weally, my deah lady, I have a very 
pwessmg pwevious engagement, don't you know— and it 
IS weally— (looking round furtively for revolver) im- 
possible to take advantage of your thoughtfulness. 
(Aside) Tommy, didn't I tell you to assist the lady 
around the room; let her polka with you for heaven's 
sake. 

Tommy— (who is really delighted) All right Guv., 
seem has 'ow has hit's my bread hand butter, I never 
likes to fight with wot I 'as to heat. 

(Tommy takes Starlitz in tow. Theodore takes high 
boots and miners grin in back ground.) 

Curtain. 



[215 1 




( 



if I 




ACT III-STILL AMONG THE PHILISTINES 

Scene I. 

TA^odor^— (Discovered standing up to his knees 
swamp, holding a lantern in one hand and a game b; 
which he has difficulty in keeping open, in the oth 
His dress suit is wet and limpid, the tall hat being p; 
ticularly the worse for wear.) I wonder what time 
is— I can't hardly hold my eyes open— I can't understa 
how it is Mr. Willoughby and his friend do i 
come back— strange there has not been a single sni 
shot. This is beastly uncomfortable— but its bet 
than dancing with those salmony smelling native; 
I'm glad Izzy didn't see that, don't you know. I 
hush, there's that crackling again. It's been going 
all night. It must be bears— that's what they me; 
when they said "the woods were full of them." ] 
a good thing I have a light— I loaned Mr. Willougl 
my gun — he said his was at the locksmith's having i 
barrel greased. But, mercy on me, the lantern is goi 
out— We'll never be able to get back to the cano( 
and the snipes won't see the bag eithc.- — and Mr. Sn 
—(crackling in bushes) But thert it is again— j 
what they said — the bears will come when the li| 
goes out— so the miners said. What vulgar creatu 
miners are, to be sure — ^but they're better than ba 
Mercy on me, the crackling comes nearer— Will I ( 
out?— No, no, it's sure to be a bear— I wonder is 
arm long enough, but hush— it's whistling. 

Tommy- (Who has been whistling the chorus ti 
of "Oh where, oh where, has my little dog gor 
breaks out into song from behind the scenes as i 
lows : ) 

THE TYPEWRITER GIRL. 



I once was a music hall singer, 
The critics all knew me by name; 

And when I was singing they'd linger 
To listen and add to my fame. 

Oh those were my happiest days; 

[216 ] 



!! 




^i: 



Thkedy "holding thr bag 



IN A SNIPE SHOOTING EXPEDITION. 

See pag^e 216 



; 

•i 
:| 


'■ll 

l< .'".1 






1 

\ 
i 

i. 





1 

' i \ 



There in front of the footlights' blaze; 

With my head and my heart in a whirl; 
For must I confess 
I owed my success, 

To a sweet little typewriter girl. 

CHORUS 

Oh yes, she was a sweet typewriter girl ; 

My sweet little typewriter girl ; 
With her lips in pout and her hair in curl, 

A sweet little typewriter girl. 

II 

My typewriter girl was a novice, 

When I first got in range of her smile; 
She worked for a baker named Hovis. 

Who didn't catch on to her style. 
He said she was slow is a coach: 
Wasn't that a disgraceful reproach 

To hurl at my dear little pearl ? 
And he gave her the sack. 
When she answered him back; 

Sacked my sweet little typewriter girl. 

Ill 

She then got a "sit" with an author. 

Who said she'd have half of his gains; 
He gave her a great deal of bother. 

But neither got aught for their pains. 
And then she got terribly "broke," 
And put all my presents in soak,' 

Before she her tale would unfurl • 
But I had a "pile," 
Wliich went with a smile 

To my dear little typewriter girl. 



[217] 



Ill 



I 






m-'\i 



IV 

Then when she had spent all my savings, 

She dropped on a nice little snap; 
For a lawyer whose last name was Shavings, 

Gave her nothing to do— the kind chap. 
But he fell in love with her grace, 
Her delicate fingers and elegant face, 

Her chin, and her cheek, and her curl; 
Till I took to drink, 
For what do you think? 

He married my typewriter girl. 

Tommy — (Emerging from woods as he sings 1 
chorus) Hey, Guvnor— Guvnor ! . - ,, 

Theodore— Oh, Tommy, it's you, is it? I m so g 

you've come. , . . n • , 

Tommy— Why, Guv, Where ave you been hall nigl 
Theodore—Snipt shooting, Tommy, snipe shootini 

Don't you remember when I left the ball with I 

Willoughby and that actor man. It does seem a Ic 

tir c ago— But you recall it, don't you? 

Tommy— But they came back hafter that and dani 

till past midnight. ^ , . 

Theodore— What time is it now. Tommy? I c: 

see my watch. ..... i a -ru 

Tommy— Time! Don't you see hits daybreak? The) 
just sent me hoff to see why you haren't ready to si 
for Klondike. It must be past 5 o'clock now and t 
say you arranged to go at 4. 

Theodore— Do they? How strange! They are v 
forgetful people, don't you know— Why, they left 
here at 11 o'clock last night to hold the lantern and 
bag. They cautioned me to hold the bag open, beca 
they said when the snipes did come they'd come wit 

Tommy— They've been aguying hof vou. Guv. Th 
sure. But they're in dead hearnest, now, for the; 
taken your houtfit and told me to tell vou to urry 
catch hup to them. . 

Theodore— But, Tommy, I have not had a wink 

Tommy— No more hain't I, Guv. Wot, with drinl 
your 'ealth with SHm Jim and the boys, as yer 
quested, and hacting as yer substitoot all night > 

I 218] 



mgs, 

havings, 
chap. 

ce, 
curl; 



sings last 

m so glad 

tiall night? 

shooting— 

with Mr. 

em a long 

ind danced 

? I can't 

k? They've 
dy to start 
V and they 

y are very 
ey left me 
:rn and the 
en, because 
ame with a 

uv. That's 
for they've 
'urry and 

a wink of 

th drinking 
as yer re- 
night with 



Starlitz, I clean forgot hit was night. But, say. Guv 

hat wench is a rum un hand no mistake. She hasked 

to be remembered to you. "iskcu 

Theodore— Tommy, my deah fellow, you must never 

i'S.\^\h7^ \^°"' '^^' episode-or any otJTer episode 
I might add-when we come back from Klondike 

Tomm3'-(dramatically) Yer secrets dies with me 
G"v--Put It there. (Shakes hands). 

way -rlmmT? "^^ *""'* ^^ ^°'"^" ^° ^°" ''"°'^ ^^^ 

4^:a?t7?i^f?r b'r''3cf{'^ ^°'"^^' ^'^"^ '^^ ^P°» 

goK^Ki^n^dikeftoo^r"^' '^ '''' ^^^^^^"' -- 

Tommy-Yes it was 'im as took the canoe we were 

to ave and said we were to walk 

Theodore— And they have all the outfit? 

Tommy-Yes. Guv. I'd 'av made 'em wait if there 

ad been only two or three-but there was a dozen 

owhn savages along, and hevery one on 'em took 

French leave hof a harmful. «= on em took 

un? U^«''KtT^*'^*u'^?l' ^"^'"^ °* "8 «f *e can't catch 
we'll slar^^r ToZy." "^ '° "^^'^ ""' '^"^ '^ *« d^'^' 
Jomwy— Yes, (pensively) hunless we draws lots as 
thev does m story books, and heats one anXr ' 

TnmmJ? *'n i?"^ *^^". y°" suggest such a vultrar thing. 
Tommy.? Deah me, let us find the outfit at once, so 
that I may dress for breakfast. ' 

as W h^?v ?€''?• ^"^; (^'t^* a grimace) Seein' 

never likes tnfi'crht-^»,*° ''S'^^ ''"^^ hand butter, I 
never likes to fight with wot I 'as to heat. Come along 

(Exeunt.) 
Scene II, 

w;S'°rr^?'**^*?^*'"«^ *»**' D'ck on shore of Takoo 
h d\th'\*SleTk*'^f background) Deacon, we have^t 
Kiffj, A ^K^^^ °^ ^^'^^ »" many a day. When our 
r^ffj^''?"^ ^''^^'^^ «^t« back to New York, he'll have 
a^^diflFerent idea of gold mining than he had when he 

Get him L\- f *° '^'^^ bim some real experience 

Snow Ai'-t}""^^' '" ^ ^"ft. for instance.^ 

Driftr;;^d«mn, "^ r,^'^"* '^""^ ^^'^t y°" nieant. 

would be "vewv vff"^ ^'''i'"^.' ^'^ ^" o"« to him. and 
uia DC vewy vulgar, don't you know." to say the 

[ 219 ] 



'■'■l 



w 



KM' 



M 






least. He may have heard somewhere that all 1 
glitters is not gold, but it takes tenderfeet a long t 
to find that a good deal that doesn't glitter is as g 
gold as the rest of it. Upon my honor, pard, I 
joyed the dance last night more than usual. 

H'illoughby — It was amusing, Colonel. But the da 
couldn't hold a candle to the snipe shooting. 
snipe-shooting was picturesque. 1 don't often lav 
George, but I broke the record last night out in 
woods. I joined the procession from Juneau a li 
after midnight, and to see that booby standing out tl 
like a frozen rat, and waiting till the snipes fell i 
the bag was too much for even my risibilities. 

Snow — Ha! ha! Same here, Dick. H we'd only 
a kodak, eh? Do you know he set me thinking of 
make up the time I played "The Private Secretary' 
Cariboo. As luck would have it, a rainstorm came 
during the performance and the shack we played 
leaked so badly my clerical habit clung to me cK 
than his royal nib's dress coat. But, Deacon, the ste 
boat will be here tonight and we'd better get a move 

IVilloughby — Yaas, that's the worst of it, we w 
have time to get him properly salted down. 

Snow — How will we apologize for leaving him 
in the wet? He'll be howling mad when the little 
finds him. 

Willoughby — Don't trouble yourself on that sc 
I've had to deal with too many tenderfeet in my ti 
to dodge at that prospect. He'll smell a rat when 
hears from his valet that we were at the dance a 
leaving him, and he's too dignified to mention a ti 
in which he cut such a ludicrous figure. Keep m 
and you'll never hear another word about it. 

Snow— I guess you're right, pard ; and anyway, a i 
who hasn't enough sense "to come in out of the v 
ain't liable to make much fuss. What's the next i 
on the program? Will we let him have a shy at cc 
ing his own grub or — 

Willoughby — Why, Colonel, I gave you credit 
knowing how to handle a tenderfoot. 

Snow — Well, Dick, it does do my heart good to 
the smoke follow a greenhorn around a camp fire 
never knew a case yet where it failed. 

fVilloughby — Yes, that's straight enough — ^but a bo; 
in' house in the woods with a klootch as kitchen n 
is the only sure inducement for camp solitude; and 
want him to go into that of his own accord. No i 



[220] 



il 



at all that 
I long time 
is as good 
tard, I ei.- 

t the dance 
ting. The 
ften laugh, 
out in the 
;au a little 
g out there 
;s fell into 
es. 

d only had 

king of niy 

xrretary" in 

m came on 

played in 

me closer 

the steain- 

a move on. 

, we won't 

ig him out 
he little un 

that score. 
n my time, 
it when he 
dance after 
ion a thing 
Keep mum, 

way, a man 
)f the wet " 
: next item 
hy at cook- 
credit for 

jood to see 
imp fire. I 

>ut a board- 
itchen maid 
de; and we 
1. No man 



until he has seen how" h*! low ^T^^^ '°^" P°' 

her. Ain't you an actor Cofon?' ff/u*°"« *»thout 
fession good for "f voS„n'.^b ^''^^^ ^0"^ P^o- 
sometimls? Holy smoke r^.n™^^^MP"*=V"' "««= »' 't 
an Indian. Just oaS? vm?^f i'* ^°" " "l*"** ^ jewel of 
kind. SpoopyhafnT lien font "^ *° ^^' ^°"^ °f ^ 

JsZd^^'-^^ ^jatTs St'" r."*^^^^ r^'j" *»>« d-t 

coming. Keep -em here till I L /^I!*=^ ^ ''^^^ ^''em 
By-the-way. remember he hnksSH-^T" •° *°«^ "P" 
the outfit, and I made ^n J »/? * i"" .-^"P '^ P^^ of 

the Siwashes loadTng the caioe ci? ''"'' S?*^'^.^. «" 
dream we were sending the st«ff h?l f^^'M^ ^'^ ^**l"'t 
wharf, and IVe no Z,ht tlfl ? ^^t ^° *?* steamboat 
concluded the whole Indian n,H^** ^^^^' ^^ ^^'' time, 
to the Yukon. "^*'°" ^""e to escort them 

(Exit Snow) 

Tomm^'To^^t^'^rso^'fLt^^J^h'^^ Tom^y ^ jeah 
twigs are settinf m^, "~^'^~°*~^ ^^ believe the 

0w!-ouch-for"^merc7s 3e° ho'ir^'' ^° *"P «"* "P 
catch up. That last hranrh c* ' u "^ °".' .Tommy, till I 
don't you know-Dea^ d'-.h™'''' ""^ "»^* °" the nose, 
rowwv-NMr thl ti V^Kt^^'^ *e "ear the place? 
hocean yet. We're eo^inTi V°- ^^S ''^'"'t «°t to the 

w£^t^n;^3'°^°^^ -ever 

rtr^^lf^;^^ iZ,]fil^^^ ^ to get a 

chaps. That SHm fi^ L "^ ''"P *'th those miner 

,^^j 3- XNaw. But thank 'eaven 'ere we hare hat 

[221 ] 



n H 



m 



I 



i:' I 



111 f t 



[■1 



(Comes on stage.) 
r/ifodorc-Where. Oh-ouch— Tommy, wait a mim 
or weally I shall be compelled to obtam another vale 
weallly I shall. Oh. I do believe 1 have broken 

^"Come's on stage limping. stUl i" ^is ^Iress s 
which is torn and muddy and his silk hat is out 

^^Wuhughby-yNhy, Mr. Spoopendike, I'm so glad 
see you Ifs too bad to wake you up. at such an 
errthly hour, but we had to do it. business is busm 
and we mus be first on the field i we wint to m 
a payTng^take. But you've been having a constitutio 
I 'see-^fs a fine appetizer., One needs something 
that kind to appreciate one's breakfast. But that 
mfnds me. did' you make .any -".^"f %"»^,f^5;" 
French cdok or anything m that line. YouU ha 
care to out up with our humble diet. 

r/,J°/or.-Weally, Mr. WiUoughby, . I quite o 
looked the culinarv part of the expedition-indcc 
haH bel eved we would be able to drop into the half 
houses and inns enroute and get what we desire, 

^^iliolghby-Hovi strange that a man of your evi 
abmty whose ingenious mind even thought of sucli 
?an as^ cradle to rock the gol'' -dark glasses to 
your eyes from the glittering dust-and a ket e to 
the bullion-and yet did not arrange for a bite to 
But great men are always like that as you say. 
course you can drop into the eating houses by the 
Tommy-Say, Guv.. I 'opes you wont.^ya^t till 
come acLs a'^'heating 'ouse .i. this ^wUn deser 
don't know 'ow you feel, but it seems to me has a. 
best interest hat 'art-hit seems to me has ow 
bought to 'ave something, not to mention the m( 
ful I'd like myself. .. ... 

Theodore-lndetd, Tommy, you are quite right 
WiUoughby, can you undertake to find the nece 
accommodations for us en route? , . ,„ t, 

WiUoughby— I shall be most happy to do so. it 
be such an Lnor ^ have you eat at "ly ow" ta 
most of the family nave already breakfasted, but i 
wish I will ask my fair partner to prepare a repas 

^°r>tfodor^— (Patronizingly) Don't mention it, I'm 
I alwavs trv to adapt myself to the ways of the i 
classes; don't you know, when circumstances re 

[ 222 1 



me to be in their company. I hope you will feel quite 
at home while I am around, indeed I do 

lytUoughby— Certainly, Mr. Spoopendike. certainly; 
you are very kind, "don't you know." If you'll just 
come over with na I will introduce you to the one who 
has sworn to honor and obey— "don't you know " 

_. J (Exit) 

Theodore— And so we are to meet a lady, and me in 
this condition. Tommy, let us change hats. The 
weather has played such havoc with mine that it is 
not becoming. It does not so much matter how you 
look. ^ 

Tommy— Hal] right. Guv. I spose it don't. Hany- 
how, seem hit s my bread hand butter, I never like to 
hght with wot I 'as to heat. 

(They change hats and hurry after Willoughby). 
Scene III. 

(Snow discovered in front of tent dressed like an 
Indian woman with his face and hands painted, his 
head m a handkerchief, and a dirty blanket around his 
shoulders A camp fire is visible with a pot fastened 

HZ A ^K"°'ii^u"'^ ^^ ^^^ J&°* ^''^" Willoughby enters, 
lollowed by Theedy and Tommy.) 

milouahby— Halloa, Old stick-in-the-mud, have you 
any muck-a-muck left? (Aside to Theodore-muck- 
a-muck is Chinook for grub) I've brought you two 
new boarders-This one is Mr. Spoopendike, 1 J this 
one— by-the-way, what is your name, Shorty? 
Jommy— Oh, hit don't matter wot you calls me has 
loiig has you gives me enough to heat. 

Theodore-He is my valet, don't you know. 

i-«oa,-yalet-Valley, What is Valley? Oh, yes, now 
IfJu ^^^' 5 goot choke, ha! ha! ha! when zay are 
together zay do look like a mountain and a valley 

y/»rorfore- teg pardon, Madam, did you speak? 

.he /inn^»^i^~°^' '^°"* '"•"^ h"' Mr. Spoopendike, 
armmd ''^'"'"•"s, except when there is "hoochinoo'' 

^Theodore-And what do you mean by hooch; .0. 

eetS''!'^ ^*^~°|J' \ ^f« y^"*" P"J°"- T do keep for- 
fnooTs Chinrok lor whis°kV'^ ^'"'^'^^ '''■ "°°^'- 

.Jinff"'''^"^' '"^5^^; This Chinook is quite a 
Zn' \ ""pediment, don't you know. Strange they 

Uth, dnnJj " ^t college- Why. one needs it mo^re than 
^-aun, don t you know. 

[ 2?'i ] 



Lm 






? , 




WiV/oKoAby— Yaas, (dryly) it is peculiar, but w 
one has knocked about the world as long as I have 
finds that there are several other things besides Chnv 

that they don't teach at college. 

Theodore— Oh, nonsense, Mr. WiUoughby, you n 
be prejudiced. But ah— by-the-way— you know 
said you were going to introduce me to your : 

partner, don't you know. 

IViUoughby— My partner? Why, hain't I ntrodu 
you yet. I beg your pardon, indeed T do. Stick-in-l 
mud, turn round so the gentleman can see you. 
Spoopendike— jtick-in-the-niufl, Sti ' in-the-mud 
Spoopendike. She don't talk th. I -est of English 
you'll find her very pood-natured. But I see its get 
late. If you'll excuse nie, gentlemen, I'll go and 1 
uo Slim jim, for it's time to be getting on. Make yc 
self comfortable. Stick-in-the-mud will have > 
muck-a-mucl- eadv in a minute or two. 

( Exit to back of tent where he hides in order to 
the performance.) . .. ^ 

Srni -(Addressing Theodore, while Tommy li 
other side of stage) Clah bow yah, tillicum? 
' hvodore — Beg pardon ! 
Snow — Clah how yah? 

Theodore— I weally don't comprehend your mear 
madam, I assure you I don't. Say something else 
perhaps — 

Snotw^Niki halo cumtux, eh! Well, how is : 
tumtum ? 

Theodore— yiy tumtum— weally, madam, you have 
again— What is "tumtum," pray? You see my Chu 
education has been somewhat neglected. 

^notc^— Tumtum means health— now saby— Ho\ 
your tumtum? 

Theodore— Oh, if it's my health you mean, why, 
health is very good— at least considering— don't 
know. Tommy, Tommy, come here like a good fel 
and converse with this cannibal. 

Towmy— Comin', Guv., comin'. I wuz just tryin 
see if I could see the houtfit, but hit hain't wisible. V 
the matter, old thing-a-my-jig? 
Snow — How is your tumtum? 
Tommy — Hey ? 

Snow — How is your tumtum? 
Tommy— Oh, my tumtum's hall right. Don't w 
about that ole lady— leastwise, hit would be alrigh 
hit wasn't so hempty. Can you 'urry along the victi 

[224] 



ow is your 



rommy and /hcodure.) Or wou5 vou raz er have 
hard aclc wiz your beans? (Dips tin cup imo pot and 

/-/•rodof^-^ horrified) Beg pa wdon. Madam but I 

us go and see if we cannot get a poached ege on toaVt 
or something else, no matter how plain 5 is at the 
nearest restaurant. I couldn't think o'f eatinVanjShing 

hit^^rS^^h^V^"^- ySf*.'" '''?^^»° "'«'*« the best hof 
know Nn» h'' "o Delmonico's in these woods. I 

Teapot (despot??*" ''^" '''''^'"' »"»'» Company'! 
Theodore— Mike the best of it' Whv Trt«,m., :*< 
impossible. Who ever heard of soup for b^eSa 
1 dont wonder they call it muck-a-muck ''"*''*"^- 

mu?kT.j;7ck."H?!'ha''owT that^o^"'. "'^t ^''Vh' 

!tS"'^^'=^^ -^^-^e"o7i"sa.L^; rl^' 
or vl liouih'b?'Th "?;j 'PPf'**' ^'^ *^" aT my rJspeS 

T^ttr^z^^ ^'^^^"- ^ -"eg!"id:-forLre; 

tite^^GuTlJiV"''" ?°""'* »".t"fe«-e with my happe- 
Wot do vo« m.^J^'^K^ ^^ ^ ^''^"«"* "^'"d from ?Su. 

rLoJr? w^ V''*'" ^°" "^^^ happetite.^ ^ 

Jhcodore-y^hy, I mean my desire for something to 

di&T^TnM^n'/ ^''^ American variety must be 

cupsZrfju ^t"?- ''^'* •« ^« '^off". All ze ozzer 

rA..dar._Merciful stars, defend me from that sav- 
•A„ .„„,i„„ t„ j^^ ^B^, restaurant .y.tem. of London. 



[225 I 



age. The idea of asking me to drink out of the sai 
utensil as my servant. Let us go at once. 

Tomwy— (Who has been stealing a mouthful wh 
opportunity oflfered.) Better not go yet, you can 'a 
the first drink hif you like. W'y, that's nothin' at ; 
I used to heat at a kitchen in London w'ere they 
so much custom that they used to let the reglars sit 1 
a long table with one big plate in front hof heach ma 
and then a cadger came hin with a big squirting afif 
like a syringe. He came to hus by turn and has 
squirted the stuff into the plate, 'eed say; "soup." I 
we wanted hany we didn't say hanything, but hif 
d'dn't like that pertickler kind we'd say, "Naw," and '< 
suck it up with the machine again like this (Tom 
goes through action with his hands and makes 
sucking sound with his mouth) and then pass on 
the next. , 

Theodore — Deah me, you make me feel faint. Coi 
we must go at once. 

Tommy— WeW, Guv., hits a question hof drawing 1 
in the woods; facing Slim Jim; hor putting hup w 
the ole ladv's peculiarities. Perhaos the old duf 
ain't so bad w'en you knows her a while. 

Theodore — "Nose" her, indeed. Oh, why did I for 
a French cook. 

Tommy— Cheer up, (jUv., I'll sing you a song 
bring back your happetite. 

(Snow who has been passing in and out of the t 
at appropriate intervals now remains outside until s( 
is over.) 

THE BOARDIN' MISSIS' SMILE. 

Though I've been in many lands. 

And have passed through many hands, 
In my search for peace and comfort without guile 

Yet I have found out at last, 

That all joy in life is past. 
If you cannot make your boardin' missis smile. 

Though your friends be of the best, 
And you sport a satin vest. 
And at balls and picnics live in highest style; 



[ 226] 



All your pomp will be in vain, 
For no real joy can you gain, 
If you cannot make your boardin' missis smile. 

When your wages are increased— 

Say five hundred at the least, 
It may make you feel quite happy for a while ; 

But it is not worth a song 

(Though, of course, I may be wrong) 
If you cannot make your boardin' missis smile. 

If some little Cupid's dart 

Has with love inflamed your heart, 

And your lady takes it off into exile; ' 
While you wait your wedding morn, 
You will wish you ne'er was born 

If you cannot make your boardin missis smile. 

If a bachelor you stay. 

And you hoard your cash away. 
Till at length you have contrived to save a file ; 

What is all your money worth, 

Is it use for aught on earth 
If you cannot make your boardin' missis smile? 

So, young man, just starting out, 

Take advice, and you, no doubt. 
Will ensure yourself real comfort by this wile; 

If with you the girls do flirt. 

Treat them kind, but be alert 
That you always court the boardin' missis* smile. 

wi I nnf^ ^ ^^ "^i'.' ?°'"« *° st"ke ze camp and you 
will not have somethin' at all to eat. ^ 

goPn^STe^t^olos?'" '^^'"'^^^ ^°'"«' ^"^•' ^' »>-'"'* 

to^o/Sfke'^^f^*?"^^ '^°"""y' I *=°»'d not lower myself 
to partake of viands prepared by that creature. In 

[227] 



'i 



! 



S 



i. 



future, since we have no cook, we will ourselves 
the necessary cooking. But in order to keep the woi 
m good humor as you suggest, you had better take s< 
of that — ah — 

Tommy — Beans. 

Theodore— WhWc I stroll around and view 
scenery, don't you know. 

Tommy— (Who has already half finished his sh 
pours Theodore's part into his, and says:) Hall ri 
Guv., since you thinks hit's best and seein' as 'ow 
hit's my bread and butter, there ain't hany use figh 
with wot one 'as to heat. 

(Tableau) 

Tommy — Eating beans, ravenously. 

Theodore — Horrified, but hungry. 

^wM?""^^" "** '" **"*« chuckling and making sign: 
Willoughby. 

IVilloughbih-Petnng from behind a tree. 

(Curtain) 



[2281 



ng signs to 



ACT IV-EN ROUTE FOR HOME. 
Scene 1. 

4]^yoltrX\n^T^^^^^^^ iust out in the 
I^^fMhe cooking "Uil? n^fr^^a ^pt^f ^JetTc^/- 

tos^i^Te''S"°* "^^ ^''^ '-« -e feeling after the 

DkKU^Sh latS '""^'^ u^^*^^''- thank you » Say 

once in a lifefme a tenc£S amusing. It's only 
out knowing where his stoi-ur°"".*^ '^^^°'> *'th- 
was. there 5as no cabfnTr^Wh/7n"''.^^ *.°«t °f i* 
hjs difficuHy. ^ * *°*" ha"dy to hide 

a/othpn alTm; chequered c^«r V'^.^'^^n^ ^'^^ 
a^[^'d we|l miss the boa[ byT "*■ ''*• ^"* ''^ 

hours. When he sfw The whk? c^^ °a ^K^^^ «'"* 
tother side of the Takoo he warned m/?** '^t^'J' «" 

the Dutch"^- aled him'atiJ'^fii°'^„,?"?'^^' t^^^^ "x^^ts 
I .was laying out the LvSns If .I""5-^ ago-while 
w'se to take a run down to dv"^ /?*' '*'*^" * t^'n"* «t 
a French cook "vihwjtion again, to get 

pole, for ?h\t "^a«e?Jb°efore''tt'^nf ^ ^° ^"^ "°«h 
dweadful Takoo" again We shonin't "°" "« ^^at 
at his word to go to New YoS ?i ''^T* **^«" him 
IVUloZ'ht the other side. ^ ^"^ ^ '*^««'- ""^e. 
nieet hfrn^on^i^s/de"" nLJ P''0'"««d the Qp.. I'd 
•t only wants an hour if^^'"^ at, watch) By George! 
"H-^t give the youth a rSrht /ooTfi°'"l^-^ *'"«=' ^oo. We 
off to windward like ail 5 ?**,.''"'^hmg touch. Sneak 
^«t tJe Indian '?k„J%J ^X ^''^f'"^ P"^* '^' h^^' 
''^^^^ nie rustling toward Th- lr;V? °iL"°'*^ when you 

f 229 J 



^^^.fcl*"*' 



I 




if i 



1. 1 



tale of woe-if you can make her believe it, so much 
the better-and then leave the rest to yours truly. 

5no«^Ml right. Deacon. If those youngsters dont 
haveTliigher opinion of miners after today wed 
better go out of the business, but-hush (Starts o go). 

whoughby-By-tht-v/zy, pard, you better follow us 
into the canoe when we do get started. I've an idea 
I mav need you aboard ship. .... \ 

Snou^-Ctrt. (Exeunt in opposite directions). 

Scene II. 
rCamo in woods; Tommy gathering logs and Theo 
dore tTying to Ugh the fire. Smoke-smoke-no hm, 
bSt smoke is thi result, and it blows contmually .. 
the direction of Theodore.) . , . 

TWor°-( Discovered in shirt-sleeves and rubbini 
his eves wTth blackened hand^ A Do you know J ",g> 
this going to Klondike is a .erious undertaking-Ol 
that beastly smoke! and to hear those low-down miner 
talk we have not begun yet. w^v^'avin 

romwv— Don't you like hit, Guv.? Were avin 
lots hThexperience. We'll be able to lead a Salvatio 
Armv oraver meeting w'en we gets back. 

Theodore-Exptritncel I wish we didn't have qmt 
so much. Weall?, Tommy, I feel quite fajnt do" t yo 
know. I have scarcely had a bite to eat since l le 
the steamer yesterday noon. „ 

Tommy-And the fishes got some of that eh ! Ou 
I told vou this morning there ain't no use fightin wi 
wot you 'as to heat. Them beans wasnt so bad we 
it come to heatin' of them. 

TWor^-Deah me, I wonder if there isnt son 
way of having a fire without smoke, don't you kn^v 
(rubs eyes) Gwacious me. How sore I am. Th 
standing^p in a bog all night has its after effects-B 
I hope the worst is over. , 

rommy-Not as I sees it. Guv., you 1 ave to g 

used o a lot of things before the worst is over. W 

tWe mav be another Takoo for all we knows. 

rLX.-lAnother Takoo! Who told you, Tomm 

Tommy-^o one toM me. Boss, I just 'appened 

menti^rhit. (smiles) Wofll we 'ave for supper, Gu 

^^Theodore-l don't know. Tommy ; by the look of t 
fire we are not liable to have anything^ 

Tommv-Except smoked millionaire Ere let 
X it w'lle you does the cookm. (Fixc= .he nre. 



fix 



[ 230 1 



Theodore— Oh, deah, I wish I knew how they make 
"fricassee chicken." 

Tommy— Hor hif we 'ad some hof that blubber 
them Injuns use, we misrht 'ave some whale on toast, eh ? 

Theodore— Let us see what they left for us. (explores 
box of provisions) Ah— (tasting) that's sugar; (takes 
parcel out and lays it on one side) I'm so glad they 
left us sugar, don't you know— Ah, and that's olive 
oil— yes, olive oil; and that's— salt— and that vinegar, 
and rice— and oatmeal— and— let me see— (wry face) 
that's soft soap, I think. Ah, here are some plates. 
How thoughtful (opens parcel) why, no it isn't either, 
It s ah — 

Tommy— Hard tack. 

Theodore— And that's mustard— and that's— weally— 
Tommy, what is this? 

Tommy— Wy, Guv., that's bacon. 

Theodore— Aw, so it is (box getting empty) and 
that s bacon powder— and that's— (smells bottle without 
label). 

romm3»— (taking bottle and pulling cork and then 
drinking heartily) I think hit's bitters, Guv., (takes 
another pull to see) 'ere let's try again. Yes hit's 
bitters— that s wot hit his. 

Theodore— That's flour- and that's coffee— and that 
—how heavy it is, and it's the last too— Oh, Tommy. 
Its beans. ^ 

Tommy— -Well, I spose we'll 'ave to 'av some hof 
them now, eh? 

Theodore— No, Tommy, I must weally dwaw the 
line somewhere, and I dwaw it at beans. 

Tommy— 'Ows that. Guv? They're heasy enough 
cooked, I know. 

Theodore— Oi course you cannot understand my 
feelings in a matter of that kind, Tommy. I have been 
brought up to regard beans as a vewy vulgar vegetable 
But there is no use casting pearls at swine. You lower 
classes can never appreciate the advantages of refine- 
"Jf"»i,- "w«. could only get to the Klondike without 
ail this abominable, uninteresting, (burns his fingers 
trying to hold coffee pot from falling over the fire) 
paintul detail. I would then show you how very su- 
perior It IS to have had a college training. 

fommy-Wdl Guv., (pokes the fire) at this rate 
if7°p /^u^" hopportumty hof testing your superior- 
ni' K J j"?'".t K'cking. If yer pays up like a man, 
' II be dead m it without hever seein' Klondike. But. 



[231 ] 






Guv., wot's funny to me is w'y you turned hup yei 
nose w'en that Starlitz wench hasked you to 'ave anothei 
dance. That little un was just my size. She was woi 
I calls a topper. 

(Theodore spills the coffee in his disgust, and agait 
burns his fingers trying to keep the contents fron 
putting out the fire.) But say. Guv., yer likely to g{ 
to bed without supper — they only gave hus a hour t( 
get ready to move again, and the time's nearly hup 

Theodore— Oh, Tommy, I cawn't — here, you do th< 
cooking too, that's a good fellow. 

rommy—Hall ri^ht, Guv., seein' hit's my bread han( 
butter, I'm not gom' to fight with wot I 'as to heat 
But 'ere's that bloke, Willoughby, comin' as hif 'eed los 
something. (Enter Willoughby.) 

IVilloughby — You haven't seen Slim Jim's pipe any 
where, have jrou? 

Willdughby — Well, that is a blessing and no mis 
take. There's bound to be a necktie party in cam] 
tonight when the pipe is found. 

Theodore — ^A what? 

IVilloughby — A Ivnching, I mean. 

Theodore — But they wouldn't hang a man for steal 
ing a pipe, even if they did find him out, would they 

Willoughby — Hang him! I should think they woulc 
Why, man, outside of Snow's monthly tragedies, 
necktie party is the only amusement the miners hav< 

Theodore — Deah, deah. You don't call that an amuse 
ment, do you? 

IVilloughby — Wall, you see, when men have lived al 
their lives in the mountains, they need something o 
that kind to be more than ordinarily exciting. Lyncti 
ing comes as natural to a miner as lying to a lawyei 
To give you an instance. Once on a time there was 
miner got into heaven by a fluke, do you understand 

Theodore — Yes, I can venr well understand tiiat. 

IVilloughby — Wall, when St. Peter came round an 
found him, he was sor^ of mad at first, but softened dowi 
and promised to let him remain if he would refom 
It went all right for a day or so, but the miner grei 
lonesome for some of his pals at last, and one nigl: 
stole a march on Gabriel and let the whole diggins i 
before anyone could prevent him. 

Theodore — What a horrid man. 

Willoughby — ^That's what Peter thought when he sa^ 

[2321 




"Oh Tommy my dear noble fellow, herb take the pipe 
m YO0R pocket. I'm sure no one would take the 

TROUBLE TO HANG A MERE VALHT." 

See page 234 



1„ 



« 1 i 

i 






'- 







It excitedlv anH w«ii-^ »* • • 'o<-*'nK he opened 

■lJSw'j, I'fji^ti ?f a'AKroZhirvlrV 

cry was too much for his pal5.%hiv io„U .oJ^! 

and heaven was itself again **"''='''y' ''''"* ^^e door 
rA^odor^-But that is not true, surely? 

^^j//o«yA6y_That'll only prove vou tr^lr .> 

But in Lndon Svn' J .ho°° 5^^ ^^^ got found out. 
hand his toin' tn ifr ^^^^p does romething wrong 
police ^ ^ *° •** '=*"«*'*' ee usually calls in thf 

» a thousand miles away "^*'""' policeman 



[233 ] 




after it has happened. Fly, man, Hy — 

* rL«d"r"-BStI didn't take the P'Pe. *'""y- 

STAd'r "^olr ?Sr.o ».k. m. wah. . 

£v;B^«anii^ri''J.^^s^^^ 

" rW»«-Y.,, l.fs away. Oh, if I only had i. 
travelling apparel here ! . ^ 

IVilloughby-Bnt you're not 80j"8 *°. flj^ Xrt 
Klondike expedition, are you? We have hardly star^ 
yet, and I shall miss you so much. Do stay liKe a go 

^^Tfc^o/f«ri._Weally Mr. Willoughby, I. fear we w 

ns r?it'U.°o Tn '.tot I ;^«J4,o'„s Z 

Saturday, and we can «""'? '""g^Tnus, 

^„"i^rnor bs-y^Mr. ^^^su.";: .a. 

[2341 



Willoughby — Goodbye, Mr. Spoopendike ; but it is 
too bad to break up our friendship so abruptly. I will 
accompany you to the steamer. (All begin to go; then 
suddenly Willoughby turns and calls into the woods) 
Hay there, Old Stick-in-the-mud, if we aint back to 
supper, tell Slim that business of importance has called 
Mr. Spoopendike and valet to the Metrclopis. Now then, 
Starlitz, lead us to the canoe (Exeunt all, followed by 
Snow, still in blanket) 

Scene III — Aboard Ship. 

Captain — (Discovered alone on deck of steamer, with 
glasses) Well, it was somewhere about here Dick told 
me to look for him. I never knew the Deacon to fail 
when it came to gulling tenderfeet. I only hope he 
has had some mercy. (Enter Aunt Jemima with Izzy 
in tears) What's the matter now, Miss Lovejoy, sea- 
sick again? 

Aunt Jemima — Captain Rudlin, Haow long do you 
calculate it will be before those young sca')e graces 
get back from the gold country? 

Captain — What makes you ask such . question the 
day after they've gone, good woman? You don't 
expect them back do you? (Aside — I wonder did she 
hear us talking). 

Aunt Jemima — Haow? 

Captain — I say, what makes you ask such a question 
the day after they've gone? 

Aunt Jemima — It does appear like trifling with your 
nautical knowledge, Captain, but this girl here is leading 
me such a life of misery since young Spoopendike 
went, that I'm most crazy. If I thought the beans 
they talk so much about were Boston baked and that 
we could tote enough pumpkin pie and apple cider to 
last us through, I dew believe I might thmk of going 
into the mountains after him, especially as Mr. Wil- 
loughby is their guide. 

^ Captain — Oh, is that all. Don't worry yourself. Miss. 
I'll warrant he ain't worrying after you more than he 
ought. But he can't be very far off yet, in fact, do 
you know (with a chuckle) I've a presentiment that 
he'll be aboard with us tonight. 

Isabel — Oh, Captain, do you think so? How nice that 
will be. If he does we will— 

Aunt Jemima— Gtt married and live happy ever after, 
as the foolish story books I read, when I was a girl, 
used to sav. 



r235 1 



tVilloughby—itrom without) Ship ahoy! ship »hoy 

Captain— My presentiment has materialized. 

(Enter Willoughby and party). 

//afrW— (Rushing to meet Theodore) Oh, Theedy 
mv love, I knew you could not stay away from me 
(locked in each other's arms). 

Theodore— No, dawling, I had to come, don't you 
know. 

Willoughby— Thit's straight goods, Miss, (with t 
wink at the Captain) he had to come. It was utterl) 
impossible for him to stay longer. (Starlitz hangs or 
to Theodore somewhat jealously.) 

Aunt Jemima— Izxy, dear, dew not be too familiar 
Who is that native person, Mr. Spoopendike? 

Theodore— Aw— it— ah (aside to Tommy), Answei 
her for heaven's sake, and get me out of this scrape 

Tommy— (In stage whisper to Theodore) Hall right, 
Guv., seein", hit's my bread hand butter I don't see han> 
use hphtin' with wot I 'as to heat, (aloud) W'v, yoti 
see, old lady, she's Starlitz— my sweetheart, and she's 
trying to induce the Guvnor 'ere to sign the check for a 
thousand dollars which 'ee oromised to give 'er if she 
married me; ain't that so, Guv.? 

r/iforfor^— Well— I— ah— expect that must be it 
(Starlitz does not see the point, and Theodore says 
to Tommy again: Do take her away. Tommy). 

Tommy— Yon 'aven't got the check 'andy, a\ 
Guv.? 

Theodore— Oh yes, certainly, ah — 

Starlitz — Don't you want dance me again, Mistah 
Ninkumpoop — me save you — me. 

Theodore— {\n growing distress) Not just now, 
dawling— 1 mean woman — (aside) Oh, Tommy, here's 
the check, keep her auiet while I'm writing it and I'll 
double your salary too. 

Tommy — Make it payable at Juneau. I've han hidea. 
I'll stop ere and take 'er in tow just to oblige you. Guv, 

Theodore— Ctrt&inly, certainly, but oh keep her quiet. 

Tommy — You see. Captain and ladies, this ere wench 
is the future queen of the — wot do you call 'em, 
Willoughby ? 

Willoughby — (highly amused) The Jim Jams, do 
you mean? 

Tommy — Yes, the Jim Jams — and with the princely 
hoffer hof ha fortune, w'ich 'is Ryal 'Ighness his heven 
now writin' hout, I will be the 'appiest man hin Halaska 
— not to mention being king w'en 'er old man croaks. 



ave you, 



[ 2361 



(Goes up and chucks Starlitz under the chin, which she 
takes m good part ) 'Ere. Ducky, III dance yer a round 

°''u.*°lJ'^* ^^ ^"* '*!' *'"'^" "'Kht, just to show the 
ightoned folks ow haccomplishcd you hare Now 

/u**"* ^^'^- ■'"*' "'^^' o" '*' hf^ur curve, will yer? 

(Here Tommy leads Starlitz out and after a dance 
sm^s a verse in the chorus of which Starlitz joins and 
again dances, etc., to end of song.) 

I'M GOING TO WED A PRINCESS. 

I'm going to wed a princess : 

Some day she'll be a queen ; 
And then I'll be her consort 

With all that that may mean. 
I'll sit upon a golden throne. 

And smile on Royal Dames; 
And when her pater turns his toes, 

I'll rule the great Jim Jams. 

CHOSUS 

When we are the Jim Jam king and queen, 
We'll raise old Cain with ardor keen 
Likewise the golden calf; 
We'll make our subjects eat our foes, 
And with our friends we'll drown our woes 
In glorious 'alf 'n alf. 

Her father is a monarch — 

(Another name for king) 
His fathers ruled the Jitn Jams 

Since time first took the wing; 
But now he's growing hoary 

So, as his daughter's spouse, 
When he has gone to glory 

I'll take the Kingly vows. 



[237 ] 



Her mother — (recitative) But I forgot all 
about her mother. For heaven's sake, Starlitz, break 
the news gently. Is your mother dead? 
Starlitz — Yes. 

Her mother's in a coffin 

Within the Royal tomb; 
Her angel voice is silenced 

And buried deep in gloom. 
Long ere her daughter married 

She mingled with the blest — 
And quite resigned the mourners weep— 

Whatever is is best. 

Her i subjects are devoted — 

At least they soon will be; 
When she is queen and I am king 

They'll have a jubilee. 
They'll gorge themselves with salmon heads, 

They'll swim in blubber fat, — 
But when she's queen and I am king — 

Who cares a fig for that. 




CHORUS 

When we are the Jim Jam king and queen, 
We'll raise old Cain with ardor keen 

And milk the Klondike calf; 
We'll make our subjects eat our foes, 
And with our friends we'll drown our woes 

In glorious 'alf 'n 'alf. 

(Starlitz sings a high note in closing last chorus and 
Tommy stops to listen in amazement.) 

Tommy — W'y, I thought you were an uncivilized 
savage? 

Starlitz — Zat is what zay call me. 

Tommy— Well they're wrong. Only civilized savages 
sing like that. 

[ 238 J 



ot all 
break 



ads, 



;n, 

oes 

us and 
vilized 

avages 



Aunt Jemima— Well, dew tell. What a right cute 
little fellow that Britisher do be. 

Isabel— Oh Theedy, dear. It is just like the brave, 
generous cr'^ature you are to make others happy. I just 
don't know how anyone can help lovii^ you. 

Theodore — Yes, dawling. 

Isabel— But, Theedy, was it love at first sight between 
Mr. Tompkins and the princess? 

pyUloughby — (after awkward pause) Only partly, 
Miss — you see — 

Theodore — (aside) Oh, Mr. Willoughby, I shall pay 
you well for your services as guide, don't you know, 
but be careful — oh so careful. 

IVilloughby — Well, to make a long story short, it was 
a case of ]oving a mountain first but getting shaken oflF 
into the valley. 

Isabel — I don't know what you mean, sir, but it must 
have been nice — all love is so nice. Theedy dear, I 
have missed you so much ; I have scarcely had a wink 
of sleep since we parted. 

Theodore — Same here, dawling; me too. 

Isabel — Did you have any adventures while you were 
at Klondike? 

Theodore — Well, I should say so. I'm going to write 
a book about them, don't you know. (More embraces.) 

Aunt Jemima— Sakes alive, Captain Rudlin, this is 
getting very high-Sluting. It reminds me of old times 
(looks sheepishly at Willoughby). I'm beginning to 
feel just as spruce as if I were a young girl again. 

Captain — Yes, I'm married myself, but I know just 
how you feel. 

Tommy — Say Captain, (growing desirous of proving 
his new fortunes) can't you do the business up? I 
know some captains has can splice ha chap hand th-^y're 
not a bit bettern you. 

Isabel — Oh yes. Captain, you can marry people, can't 
you? How nice that would be. 

Theodore — Oh, you weally must excuse me, but I'm 
not dwessed for the occasion. 

Willoughby — But it isn't your clothes gets married, 
Mr. Spoopendike. {Aside) Look here, if you don't be 
sociable I'll have to mention how you spoiled your dress 
suit. 

Theodore— {aside Oh, Mr. Willoughby, be merciful). 
Isabel, my dawling, if the Captain's willing, so am I. 

Isabel—So am I. 

Tommy— So am I. 



[ 239 ] 






Starlits — (after persuasive actions on part of Tommy) 
So am I. 

Captain — Well since you four are willing. Isn't there 
any one else? While I'm in the way I might as well 
fix up six as four. (Looking hard at Willoughby.) 

Willoughby — Cap., you seem to mean me. I have been 
a widower for so long I've most got used to it. 

(Theodore stares.) 

But since she's from Old Massachusetts and reminds 
me so much of Maria— (looks sweetly at Aunt Jemima.) 

Aunt Jemima— Really, I thought I had gotten over 
such foolishness, but Mr. Willoughby is so like my dear 
Hezekiah. 

Tommy— Hit's heazy seein' the old lady's deaf, Guv., 
hor helse 'Ezekiah wuz used to tellin' some unearthly 
w'oppers. 

Aunt Jemima — (Sings) 

i THE WIDOW'S SONG 

I've been a widow many years 

I've bathed my grief in seas of tears — 

I've shunned all joy: 
But still I live a wid->w lone — 
The grave sends back no answering moan 

No hopes decoy; 
Till now I wonder is it right 
That I should rob my life of light? 




Tho' I loved Hezekiah 

He's now dead and gone; 
Why should I not marry 

His loss to atone? 
Why should I not hearken 

To one who loves me, 
And seal a new life lease 

With nuptial glee? 




There's those who say it is not true 
For widows to consort anew — 

It wrongs the dead: 
But after all is said and done 

[ 240] 






What cares the dead the pace we run? 

In last long bed 
They dreamless lie nor seek to cheer 
The life their death left sad and drear. 

And once we've found what marriage means — 
Have had a peak behind the scenes 

And proved its worth: 
It is a compliment for sure 
That we no longer can endure 

The loved one's dearth; 
But straight pick out another spouse 
To whom we may renew love's vows. 

In the last chorus Willoughby joins as follows: 
WILLOUGHBYS CHORUS 

Tho' I loved sweet Maria 

She's now dead and gone; 
Why should I not marry 

Her loss to atone? 
Why should I not hearken 

To one who loves me, 
And seal a new life lease 

With nuptial glee? 

Theodore— I forbid the banns. 

H'illoughby-^\\ hat about the ball and the snipe shoot- 
ing and the pipe incident and — 

TA^odor^— (tragically) It matters not, villain. Since 
she is to be a relative of mine, even though Slim Jim 
and his revolver were here, I would not see her marry 
a — bigamist. 

Aunt Jemima — Ow — 

Snow — (who has been in background unnoticed) 
This is where I fit in isn't it? 

Theodore— Yes, my future i d vewry respected 
relative this creature ah — is that man's — 

5"now^( throwing oflf female disguise) Partner. 

Tommy— Sold again and got the money. Say, Guv., 
they've been aguying hof you right hand left. 

Theodore— Well did you ever ! Weally, Aunt, I have 
[ 241 ] 



-.i^£g»asi. 



been misinformed. I withdraw my objection on one 
solitary condition. 

Aunt Jemima — "j 

and VAnd that is? 

Willoughby — J 

Theodore — That when we get back to civilization, 
you will help me keep the secret of how Tenderfeet are 
treated in Alaska. 

All — Agreed. 

Curtain, 

(H the lowering of the curtain meets with sufficient applause 
to justify a longer performance the following epilogue may be 
recited by Stmt 



EDUCATED AT COLLEGE 

Once on a time, a farmer from down East, 
Who, with his wife, two sons and a daughter, 
Had struggled for years to scrape a living 
From a resisting farm in the mountain!. 
Opined, that, if wealth failed him as a whole, 
It was indeed a shabby family 
That could not afford at least ONE gentleman. 

With this in mind, he and his household saved enough 
To send the younger of the two sons to school. 
And while he was gone many sacrifices 
Were required of the home folks to fulfill 
His many needs and help him win a degree. 
But at last it was won, and the young man 
Broadened by contact with the world, returned 
To the old one-roomed cabin of his boyhood 
To meet those from whom he had so long been parted. 



They all felt proud of th'^ young collegian, 
And with their pride a sort of modesty 
Had arisen, that, when it came time to retire, 
Made it needful to blow out the candle 
Ere they disrobed — a nicety about which 
They had not always been so careful. 

[ 242 ] 



one 



tion, 
are 



lause 
y be 



)Ugh 



rted. 



The father first reached for the candle. 
Several times he tried to extinguish it. But, 
Owing to his heavy moustache and a chin 
That receded too abruptly, when he blew, 

(Whew)!! 
The wind went down, and the light still flickered. 

The mother, seeing his failure, came forward 
And, taking the candlestick in her Ions bony fingers, 
Prepared to make short work of the blowing. 
But she, too, was in trouble She had lost 
Many of her upper teeth in the great 
Struggle for existence ; with the result 
That when she blew, 

(Whew)!! 

the current of wind went up. 

The older son then made shift to be useful, 
But years of incessant tobacco chewing 
Had so screwed up bis face to the left side 
That when he blew, as he did with a gusto 

(Whew)!! 
His breath went forcibly in that direction. 
And the undisturbed flambeau still twinkled. 

Next the daughter, shocked at so many failures 
And growing nervous at the ridiculous delay, 
Grasped the glimmer firmly to try her turn. 
She was an old maid, (involuntarily 
However) and in her maidenly desire 
To oe considered attractive, had allowed 
What might be described as "an eternal smile," 
To warp her otherwise beautiful countenance. 
She, too, blew 

(Whew)!! 
but the wind went vainly to the right. 



[ 2A3 1 



Now only the collegian was left. 
He, smiling at the absurd sittiation, 
But recognizing that it was up to him. 
Made one effective puff 

(Whew) ! I 

and out went the light. 

The four onlook rs, seeing his quick success, 
Fairly beamed, from the newly made darkness, 
As they uttered with one accord: "Dew tell!" 
"Isn't it great to have A COLLEGE EDUCATION?" 



[2441 



ght. 



\r 



.